


To Quit Smoking

by zhan9jun (seventheavenly)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, 长得俊
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 16:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14359266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventheavenly/pseuds/zhan9jun
Summary: Zhangjing needs help finding the right state of mind to perform Quit Smoking and Yanjun proves to be helpful.Or not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idol Producer crept upon me and consumed my life entirely. 
> 
> Pretty much like ZhangJun, or as the Chinese fans call it, 长得俊. (I love the Chinese name for the pairing, seriously. I love iQiyi even more for including it as a caption in one of ZhangJun’s videos.)
> 
> It’s been over two weeks but I’m still drowning in happiness over the fact that they debuted together!
> 
> Many thanks to [sunspritecyj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspritecyj) who beta-read this for me! The amount of typo-embarrassments she saved me from :')

 

“Why don’t we break up?”

 

Yanjun looks entirely serious as the words leave his lips, earning himself a very confused stare from Zhangjing.

 

“What in the world are you talking about?”

 

His expression not faltering, Yanjun moves from his corner of the practice room to sit right in front of the older boy. “I meant,” Yanjun reaches to hold Zhangjing’s hand, “let’s break up.” He then loosens his grip, allowing Zhangjing’s hand to fall — resulting in the other being even more confused than he was a minute ago.

 

“In case you’re unaware, Mr. Lin,” Zhangjing rolls his eyes, “we aren’t currently dating.”

 

“We could pretend,” Yanjun elaborates, “won’t it help?”

 

The older boy doesn’t understand why his friend is so insistent, but Yanjun is never one to joke around over serious matters such as their performances, so he takes a moment to digest the suggestion again. “So, let me get this right. You’re saying that it would help me get into the correct state of mind to perform Quit Smoking, if we pretend to break up?”

 

“Bingo,” Yanjun claps and points finger-guns at him. Zhangjing purses his lips and wonders how someone can still look so handsome while doing such cheesy actions, on top of giving him ridiculously strange ideas.

 

“Think about it,” Yanjun isn’t one to give up easily, “the song is about the subtle bitterness of breaking up, coupled with the conflict of meeting with one’s ex, right?”

 

“That’s how I see it for now, yes,” Zhangjing replies hesitantly. “But what does that have to do with us?”

 

“You said you’re having a hard time placing yourself in that situation, and that it’s affecting your immersion. So why not experience it first-hand, instead of trying to imagine something you don’t understand?”

 

“But you’re **not** my ex, Yanjun,” Zhangjing reminds the other, trying not to let his exhaustion show.

 

“What I’ve been trying to say,” Yanjung elaborates, without a hint of impatience in his voice, “is that we can pretend we’re dating now. We’ll then break up, stay awkward and bitter for the next few days — until you can immerse yourself into the song.”

 

It doesn’t sound **_too_** bad, Zhangjing thinks.

 

Ridiculous, absolutely.

 

But not entirely terrible.

 

He was rather desperate, after all. The pressure of being the group’s leader, coupled with his need for perfection left him exhausted and worried when he realized he couldn’t grasp the right emotions for their upcoming performance. With the finals drawing close, he hadn’t been as composed as before, feeling the threads of anxiety tightening around him.

 

He really needed this performance to be _perfect_. Or, if possible, more than perfect.

 

After a few minutes of silence, with Yanjun staring at him while waiting for an answer, Zhanjing comes to a conclusion. “I’m not against it, but I don’t know if it’ll actually work,” he confesses. “We’re not dating, so I don’t know if pretending to have a break up will give me the right emotions. I’m worried I might just end up being frustrated over the wrong reasons...”

 

“Let’s try dating for a day, then.”

 

It sounds like a joke to Zhangjing, just like the entire situation is, so he wants to take them with a pinch of salt — but when Yanjun reaches to run the back of his finger along his cheek, the older boy’s breath hitches and words fail him for a second.

 

Regaining his composure, the older boy agrees. “I’m not easy to date, though,” Zhangjing warns as he crosses his arms and lifts an eyebrow at the other.

 

“I’ll just feed you lots,” Yanjun reveals his strategy, a smirk forming on his face. “People say that the way to a man’s heart is through the stomach, I think it’s really true in your case.”

 

Laughing when Zhangjing shoots him one of his signature fiercely adorable glares, Yanjun raises his hands defensively and then reaches to pat the older boy’s head.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” Yanjun’s expression is serious again before he flashes a reassuring smile at Zhangjing.

 

“You better,” Zhangjing warns, “I’ve never dated anyone before.”

 

“Probably because you’re difficult to date, just like you said,” the younger boy points out, “but I’m a brave and determined man.” With his conclusion, Yanjun winks at the other, earning himself a dramatic grossed out reaction from Zhangjing.

 

* * *

 

Zhanjing is one to be engrossed in his food whenever he is eating: be it breakfast, lunch, dinner, supper or just a little snack.

 

So when the other trainees at their table in the cafeteria are especially quiet as he eats his lunch, he tries not to give it much thought, wanting instead to focus on the burst of flavours in his mouth. Taking a large mouthful of rice, Zhangjing barely swallows before a piece of chicken is ushered to his lips.

 

He lifts his head to meet Yanjun’s intense and rather amused stare, the other waiting for him to eat from his chopsticks. Gulping down the rest of his rice and almost choking, Zhanging bites his bottom lip slightly before eating the offered chicken.

 

Yanjun looks pleased, and immediately offers another piece.

 

“Wow,” Chaoze’s voice breaks the silence at their table, “what am I seeing?”

 

“Someone who has the sense to appreciate my appetite,” is Zhangjing’s satisfied reply, but his eye smile is quickly replaced with a glare when he spots Dinghao shooting them a look of disbelief.

 

“Are we going to be told about what’s going on?” Dinghao asks, “is this a secret segment? Hidden camera?” When he doesn’t receive an immediate answer, his eyes widen ever so slightly - Zhangjing almost gets goosebumps from the intense look of judgement that is thrown at their direction. “Wait,” Dinghao holds up his hand, “if that’s not the case, I don’t think I want to know.”

 

“I agree,” Chaoze says, “I mean, I do. But not now, not over lunch. My stomach might not be able to handle it.”

 

Yanjun is the type who loves pranks, so he ignores the other two’s words and coos at Zhangjing: “Say ‘ah’, baby.”

 

The other three choke and cough while Yanjun smirks and proceeds to tap the piece of chicken on Zhangjing’s lips.

 

* * *

 

Trainees for the Quit Smoking group are spread out across the room: some at a corner trying to memorize lyrics, some lying down to cool their heads, while Zhangjing is seated at the center with Linong, discussing about how to immerse oneself for the performance.

 

Earlier, they had already watched the actual music video for the song. Even though everyone claimed that it had helped, Zhangjing can’t help but feel that something is amiss.

 

His usual confidence to correctly emote and portray the lyrics are non-existent. He only has his vocals to depend on for now, and that wasn’t a good thing in his books.

 

The door opens then, and Linong looks up, grinning at their visitor. “My dear roommate!” He exclaims, waving excitedly at Yanjun despite the exhaustion from their practice session. “What brings you here?” Linong asks, tapping the spot on the floor between himself and Zhangjing.

 

“Just dropping by to check up on my boyfriend,” Yanjun replies softly so that only the three of them can hear with a small smile. Linong’s jaw drops and he looks from one roommate to the other. “How? I mean, it’s not a surprise, but,” he pauses to catch his breath and continues in a furious whisper. “Since when? I share a room with you two and I have never noticed!”

 

“What do you mean it’s not a surprise?” Zhangjing whispers back, covering his face with his lyrics sheet and letting his body sink to the ground, unsure of why he felt so nervous and embarrassed then. Perhaps it was Yanjun’s abrupt visit, coupled with how naturally he answered the question. If Zhangjing had moved the paper then, he would be greeted by the satisfied grin on his pretend-boyfriend’s face.

 

“Don’t take Yanjun seriously, we’re just pretending.”

 

Linong looks very confused, so they spend a good fifteen minutes explaining until he calms down, finally satisfied. “If this ever becomes real, I want to be the first to know,” he insists.

 

Zhangjing takes a deep breath, no longer feeling frantic now that Linong knows it’s just a bluff.  “Of course,” Zhangjing nods, “we’ll even send you invites to the wedding.”

 

This time, Yanjun lets out a soft sound of embarrassment before laughing. “So soon, baby?”

 

Linong throws them a look of disbelief. “As much as I’d be happy if this were real, you two have to stop being so gross.”

 

“Oh, come on, we only have a day,” Yanjun points out. “I want to enjoy this to the fullest.”

 

And Yanjun is a man of his word.

 

He drags Zhangjing out for a walk right after spoiling him with extra dishes during dinner, right into the cold winter air. The older boy can still feel the chill on his skin despite being under his thick jacket.

 

Yanjun notices and pulls him close, looking for the other’s hand to intertwine their fingers.

 

It’s warmer that way, Zhangjing thinks, so he doesn’t protest.

 

* * *

 

When Yanjun accompanies Zhangjing to his practice room before heading to his own, voices can be heard filtering through the cracks of the doors into the hallways. Chatter, singing, rapping, laughs — but none of them quite register in Zhangjing’s head.

 

Not with the younger boy’s hand still holding his tightly.

 

“I’ll see you soon,” Yanjun’s voice is soft — just like it was during their post-dinner walk. Zhangjing wonders if he is imagining it.  Wonders if he is the only one Yanjun converses in that tone with.

 

It isn’t that Yanjun is usually loud or brusque. His voice had always been laced with charm and charisma; but today, just now, _right now_ \- his voice is tender, as if he is speaking to a lover.

 

Half of Zhangjing wants to call the younger boy out for being fake and gross to him, but he can’t. As much as he wants to believe otherwise, Yanjun’s actions don’t come off as fake at all — and he doesn’t find it gross in the least.

 

Instead, Zhanjing feels enveloped in a sincerity that warms him to the bones.

 

“If my practice ends before yours, I’ll pick you up,” Yanjun says. “If you finish before me, come over and look for me so we can go back to the dorm together, alright?” Before Zhangjing can reply, he feels the absence of Yanjun’s hand around his; and feels a soft brush of lips on the top of his head instead.

 

Then, he is left at the door to his practice room, slight dazed and completely blushing.

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing does not look for Yanjun after his practice ends.

 

Linong mentions that he will be visiting Yanjun’s group, expecting Zhangjing to join him — but the older boy gives him a message to be passed instead.

 

Dashing back to the dorm right after saying goodnight to the rest of his teammates, Zhangjing rushes to the shower room. As hot water rains over him, he hopes that it will take away the anxiety within him.

 

That it will stop him from shivering.

 

Their plan was supposed to help him immerse himself into the song. It wasn’t supposed to throw him into a pool of uncertain feelings and worry.

 

Zhangjing doesn’t take note of how long he stands under the water, until he hears someone screaming his name and banging on the door to his stall.

 

* * *

 

“You Zhangjing, what’s gotten into you?” Chaoze sits him down on the lower bunk bed — Yanjun’s bed — and looks at him with an expression of worry and disapproval.

 

A million thoughts want to slip past Zhangjing’s lips, to escape so that they won’t be bottled up, but he forces a smile instead, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing, maybe I overate during dinner.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Chaoze lectures him briefly before heading out for his own shower.  Zhangjing knows that Chaoze doesn’t believe him, he knew him too well; but it was because of the same reason that he didn’t press on for an answer. Watching Chaoze exit, Zhangjing finds himself left in the room with Linong and Yanjun.

 

The two are seated on Linong’s bed right opposite of him, both with worry on their faces — although Yanjun looks slightly more angry than he is worried.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Linong checks, and doesn’t press further when Zhangjing nods his head affirmatively with a cheeky grin.

 

“I’m going to sleep now,” Zhangjing announces, injecting his voice with all the cheeriness he could muster then. He knows that it is the fastest way to stop his roomates from questioning him further, but before he climbs up the ladder to his own bed, Yanjun calls out to him.

 

“Can we talk?”

 

Zhangjing hesitates, biting his lips before turning to look at the other with a feigned expression of annoyance and exhaustion. “Now? But I’m tired and need my beauty sleep, can it wait till tomorrow?”

 

“Well,” Linong interjects as he stands, “I need a shower too, so.” He doesn’t finish his sentence, exiting the room after grabbing his toiletries and towel.

 

Leaving Zhangjing standing awkwardly at the ladder to his bed, with Yanjun staring intensely at him.

 

“What’s gotten into you?” Yanjun repeats Chaoze’s question. “Linong said you headed back first because you weren’t feeling well, and I waited for almost an hour back here — only to find you in the shower for that long?”

 

“It’s nothing,” Zhangjing smiles in embarrassment, “I was just caught up in some thoughts.”

 

“What kind?”

 

Yanjun is never one give up after he puts his mind to something, Zhangjing knows from experience. So, he doesn’t beat around the bush, knowing that it is futile to keep avoiding the other’s questions.

 

“Our fake relationship? I think it’s really working — I got too immersed and just wanted to clear my head,” he confesses.

 

It wasn’t a lie.

 

Just perhaps a half-truth.

 

When Yanjun sighs, Zhangjing’s heart clenches at the expression on the younger boy’s face. It is his turn to ask what is wrong.

 

Instead of answering, Yanjun stands and approaches Zhangjing, trapping the other between himself and the ladder. “I guess I won’t break up with you tonight,” Yanjun says, “not with you being like this. Or should I? Before you lose yourself entirely?”

 

“No,” Zhangjing’s answer slips past his sooner than he can consider it. “Not tonight.”

 

The intensity in Yanjun’s eyes softens at his answer. “Sure. Just promise me you’ll tell me if you’re not feeling well, alright? If you take hour-long showers everyday, you’re going to turn into a prune.”

 

At the other’s comment, Zhangjing laughs sincerely and replies that he would still be an adorable prune if it ever happened.

 

“Sleep well then, prune,” Yanjun smirks — and the weight on Zhangjing’s chest lifts for a moment, and a smile makes it way to his face. “Goodnight,” he bids Yanjun, earning himself a rare ruffle on the head.

 

Yet when Zhangjing is snuggled under the covers, he is reminded that their breakup is inevitable.

 

Just whether it happened sooner, or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to scream (we can also talk instead of screaming) about Zhangjing with me on Twitter, my IP/9% side account is [@zhan9jun](https://twitter.com/zhan9jun) :) Come say hi, I don't bite!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [sunspritecyj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspritecyj) for beta-reading this chapter for me!  
> Stayed up the past few nights to get this done, hope you'll enjoy it :)

Yanjun wakes up extra early the next day, way before the sun rises.

 

Before any staff or other trainee is awake.

 

Taking a deep breath, he tries not to grin — not that it really matters, since no one is around to see it. His mind immediately reminds him of the fact that he is in a fake relationship with Zhangjing, it causes a rare giddiness to blossom in his chest.

 

When he first suggested it to the other, he had half meant it as a joke. But when Zhangjing seriously pondered his suggestion, Yanjun had scrambled to sell his idea, sincerely thinking that it would work out as well.

 

At that time, he was convinced that it would be fun. Especially when Yanjun realized the fact that he could use their temporary relationship as an excuse to tease Zhangjing in new ways, and to elicit amusing reactions from others.

 

As the day passed, Yanjun came to dread their makeshift relationship coming to an end. Pretending to date Zhangjing felt like some form of twisted joy to him, so he doesn’t fight the dread. Instead, Yanjun had done everything he could to savour it while it lasted.

 

Stepping out of his bed, Yanjun looks to the top bunk where Zhangjing is sleeping. Taking a deep breath, he climbs the ladder and seats himself at the foot of the top bunk, gazing at the older boy’s sleeping form.

 

Watching the blanket rise and fall from Zhangjing’s breathing, Yanjun’s mind drifts back to yesterday’s  events.

 

_They had just finished dinner when Zhangjing licked his lips._

 

_Yanjun has always noticed the other boy’s habit of doing so, and knew he would soon bite his lower lip out of nature. And he does, Zhangjing’s gaze moving to meet Yanjun’s as his bunny teeth catch his bottom lip. There is a hint of amusement in the other boy’s eye — as if telling Yanjun he knows the other is watching._

 

_A thread of restraint comes apart within Yanjun._

 

_However, that isn’t what surprises him. It is the fact that he never realized he had been holding back._

 

_Immediately, the suggestion to go for a walk together spills from Yanjun’s lips. The thought doesn’t even register in his head before it is vocalised. “Now? In the cold? Right after my warm dinner?” The older boy’s eyes widen indignantly, as if Yanjun had just suggested a week-long diet for him to follow._

 

_Yanjun could have taken the chance to drop his suggestion then, but he doesn’t want to. Instead, he uses all the words and ways that are familiar to him — to coax Zhangjing into agreeing. Despite the older boy’s sharp replies and rejection, they both know he would never deny Yanjun of much._

 

_That is how Yanjun gets his post-dinner walk._

 

_Taking a deep breath, Yanjun allows the cold air to fill his lungs, to remind him that it is not a dream. That he really is going on a walk with Zhangjing under the pretence of a date._

 

_“I’m ready!” Zhangjing pats him on the back before appearing at his side, bundled up in his winter coat. The sight causes Yanjun to smile, tugging at his heartstrings: Zhangjing is adorable, fluffy, and undeniably soft. It causes a wave of possessiveness to wash over Yanjun. He wants to hold Zhangjing, to protect him. To keep him safe from the stress and exhaustion that came with their career and schedules._

 

_To hold him close forever and be right by his side: contented and smiling._

 

_Again, Zhangjing notices his stare. “What’s up now? Is something on my face?” The shorter boy narrows his eyes as a warning, but Yanjun has never felt the threat behind Zhangjing’s glares._

 

_In fact, he found them rather adorable. That was one of the reasons why he continuously came up with ways to be on the receiving end of said glares, not that he would ever let Zhangjing know._

 

_They barely take a few steps before Zhangjing starts shivering from the cold. Yanjun watches in amusement as the older boy tries to take bigger steps in hopes of ending the walk as quickly as possible. He chuckles when the other almost slips in his attempt, and reaches over to pull Zhangjing closer to his side._

 

_Yanjun doesn’t bother hiding the joy of their proximity, smiling down at the other._

 

_He watches as Zhangjing’s eyes meet his, the older’s breath hitching ever so slightly while a blush slowly crept onto the other’s cheeks. The sight renders Yanjun’s resistance futile, so he gives up on holding back and reaches to hold Zhangjing’s hand wordlessly._

 

_There is no protest, allowing a burst of unfamiliar yet comforting mix of joy and relief to fill Yanjun’s entire being. He doesn’t quite understand what those feelings mean right there and then, but he loves it all the same._

 

 _What Yanjun_ **_does_ ** _realise is that being able to hold Zhangjing’s hand is a privilege. A privilege that he desperately wanted all for himself._

 

Zhangjing stirs in his sleep, turning from his side to lie on his back. The younger boy’s heart drops at the sight of Zhangjing’s furrowed brows. “What are you dreaming about to be so frustrated even as you sleep?” Yanjun asks softly to no one in particular.

 

He reaches over in hopes of easing whatever thoughts Zhangjing is worried over, but his fingers stop short of touching the other. Yanjun’s hand returns to his side, feeling unnerved as memories of the night before rush back to him.

 

_Yanjun remembers grinning so much during practice that his teammates keep asking if he has good news to share. He remembers how much he wanted to share about his relationship with Zhangjing, about the wonderful mix of joy and relief he tasted during their little walk — but he doesn’t._

 

_Instead, he looked forward for practice to end. Hoping to spend some more time with the other before calling it off like they had agreed to._

 

_Yet as the night went on, Zhangjing does not drop by. It isn’t unusual for Zhangjing’s practice to end later than his did, but when Linong appears at their room without the older boy, Yanjun doesn’t wait to ask about Zhangjing’s whereabouts._

 

_“He said he wasn’t feeling well and would meet you back at the dorm,” is Linong’s reply, and Yanjun excuses himself immediately before Linong can ask if he knows why Zhangjing had been looking rather pale._

 

_Yanjun doesn’t find Zhangjing in their shared room._

 

_Neither is he in the cafeteria, or anyone else’s room._

 

_He isn’t at the lounge area either. Yanjun almost hugs Chaoze when the other tells him he spotted Zhangjing heading towards the shower room earlier. But he doesn’t, breaking into a run towards the showers instead._

 

_When the sound of running water in one of the stalls reach Yanjun’s ears, he feels thankful. However, that feeling is cut short when there is no reply from the stall he knocks on. When he calls Zhangjing’s name and there is no witty reply — or any answer at all, he begins to feel frantic._

 

_The younger boy doesn’t remember a time where he had felt more afraid than when Zhangjing finally opened the door, emerging from the stall completely flushed from the hot water and looking entirely spaced out._

 

Sighing, Yanjun shifts closer to Zhangjing, reaching out again to touch between the other’s eyebrows. A soft sound of relief escapes the other’s mouth, his expression relaxing.

 

It brings a smile to Yanjun’s face.

 

“I know you’re not telling me something,” he says to Zhangjing softly, “but I promise to chase all your fears and worries away.” His heart almost stops when the sleeping boy opens his eyes and mumbles something incoherent. Yanjun can only make out his name on the other’s lips.

 

Feeling guilty for waking the other, he moves to leave, but Zhangjing reaches to touch his arm. “Where’re you going?” The other asks sleepily. Yanjun doesn’t even know if the other is actually awake. “Stay,” Zhangjing mumbles, shifting to make space for Yanjun before closing his eyes.

 

Yanjun has to cover his mouth and count to ten, to keep himself from screaming out loud in joy, and to make sure that he isn’t still dreaming.

 

* * *

 

When Zhangjing wakes up that morning, he feels an arm wrapped around his waist. Shifting, he realizes that there is something, **_someone_ ** next to him. In his sleep-laden daze, he turns around and comes face to face with a sleeping Yanjun.

 

His body isn’t awake enough to register everything at one go: so his eyes widen slowly in disbelief, a scream gets stuck in his throat, and he shuffles backwards awkwardly until his back meets the wall.

 

The movement stirs Yanjun from his sleep, the other opening his eyes to take in the sight before him. There and then, Zhangjing decides that the smoldering gaze of Lin Yanjun’s sleep-laden eyes are too much for him to bear first thing in the morning.

 

* * *

 

Yanjun knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help but smirk as Linong hesitantly calls their names from below. Having woken up to his empty bed, Linong and Chaoze had questioned each other until they spotted him lying on the top bunk. Yanjun knows they can’t see the older boy at all, with his body blocking the view.

 

Chaoze is less patient, and hollers for them to get down soon and get ready.

 

Zhangjing, meanwhile, is hugging the blanket to himself so tightly — as if they were strangers who had spent the night together. “What’re you doing here?” The older boy finally manages to find his voice.

 

“Good morning to you too,” Yanjun replies, running a hand through his hair. His smirk grows at the sight of Zhangjing’s mouth hanging open in response to his action.

 

“Good mor-” Zhangjing catches himself in time and repeats the question.

 

“Well,” Yanjun scratches the back of his head, loving how stunned Zhangjing still is. “I woke up and wanted to see how you were. I climbed up, but then you invited me to sleep beside you, so,” Yanjun shifts closer to Zhangjing, “here I am, and here we are.”

 

Zhangjing is at a loss for words and Yanjun finds it perfectly adorable.

 

If Chaoze had not screamed at the top of his lungs for them to stop frolicking then, Yanjun thinks he might have lost himself in the moment and perhaps, just perhaps, stolen a kiss.

 

* * *

 

On their way to breakfast, Zhangjing doesn’t stop insisting that he has no recollection of inviting Yanjun into his bed; while Chaoze and Linong discuss impulsive teenage acts in the bedroom.

 

Yanjun had already prepared himself for the other’s complaints as soon as he decided to lie next to the other, so Zhangjing’s weak glares don’t faze him in the least. He is, however, rather unnerved by how quickly the older boy stops making a fuss over it.

 

He wonders if Zhangjing is **that** angry to have stopped talking to him entirely, so he ducks to peek at the other’s expression. The older boy is biting his lower lip furiously, and his cheeks are entirely flushed.

 

“What,” Zhangjing snaps at Yanjun, but there is no venom in his voice.

 

“I apologize if I crossed a line,” Yanjun begins.

 

“It’s fine, we’re dating,” Zhangjing cuts in immediately and fiercely. “I could’ve used a warning though,” the older boy looks up suddenly, clutching at his chest dramatically. “It was my first time sleeping with someone!”

 

Chaoze and Linong stop in their tracks, turning back to look at Zhangjing’s outburst. Chaoze shakes his head in disbelief, muttering something along the lines of Zhangjing pursuing an acting career or just debuting as a diva, while Linong bursts into a fit of giggles.

 

“You took my first time, Lin Yanjun,” Zhangjing jokes with an expression of mock-seriousness, “you have to take responsibility.”

 

Yanjun can’t help but grin widely in response, his heart tumbling uncontrollably towards Zhangjing and his entire being feeling lighter. The younger boy loved it when Zhangjing is like this: dramatic, happy, sassy and good-humoured. Someone he could joke around with at any time in many ways; someone who, despite being so much shorter in stature, contained so much joy and positivity.

 

He really did not want their makeshift relationship to end.

 

But Yanjun isn’t one to dwell on things he has no control over, so he reaches to place his hand on the small of Zhangjing’s back and says: “Of course, I’ll take care of you forever.”

 

* * *

 

Chaoze knows.

 

Zhangjing knows that Chaoze knows, even though they hadn’t told him anything about their plan. Yet the thing with Chaoze is that he will never bring it up until the people in question do. At least, not until it is almost too late.

 

So, when he bumps into Chaoze during practice break — Zhangjing pulls the other into a secluded hallway. The younger boy doesn’t question or put up a fight, having expected this to happen. In fact, Chaoze is prepared with his own questions.

 

“Spill it,” Chaoze is an efficient person.

 

“Or will it take forever to explain? I can tell them you aren’t feeling well and that I’m taking care of you back at the dorm.” Chaoze is also kind.

 

“No,” Zhangjing pushes them both into a corner, “I’m not going to make you sacrifice your practice time!”

 

“Be quick, then.”

 

“So,” the older boy takes a deep breath and explains in a flurry of words: “I guess you’ve realized by now that Yanjun and I are in a pseudo relationship. We agreed to it because he said it might help with my immersion for the next performance. We were supposed to end it yesterday, so I could experience the bitterness and longing of an actual break up, but-”

 

“You can’t,” Chaoze finishes his sentence for him.

 

There is no surprise felt by Zhangjing, only gratefulness that he can count on Chaoze at times like these. “It’s actually working so far,” the older boy continues, “but I think it might be working too well…”

 

“You’re both stupid,” the other notes, but not unkindly. Rather, there is a look of sympathy on Chaoze’s face. “Can’t say I’m shocked to hear, though. When I woke up to see Yanjun’s bed empty, and found him in **_yours_ ** — I had a feeling you’d both be up to something ridiculous. I just didn’t expect it to be for the sake of your performance.”

 

Zhangjing bites his lower lip, the familiar feeling of being lectured by Chaoze settling in him. Just that this time, he doesn’t have the words to argue otherwise. Chaoze sighs before continuing: “Did you think that pulling this would not affect your relationship? That it would stay just like before? You know how fake dating goes, someone’s going to end up hurt if they take it too seriously.”

 

“Well,” Zhangjing tries to remember why he agreed to it in the first place. “I was desperate,” he explains, “plus, Yanjun and I are close, it should turn out alright…” But even his tone betrays him.

 

“It’s because you’re both close that it’s silly,” Chaoze rubs his temples, “silly and dangerous. I’m worried that you’ll be the one ending up hurt, considering your overwhelmingly clingy nature.”

 

“Am not!” Zhangjing pouts, looking at the other accusingly.

 

“Not what?”

 

At the familiar deep voice, both trainees turn to look at their roommate, standing at the other end of the hallway.

 

“Not a good time to sneak off for snacks,” Chaoze replies, as if their conversation had exactly been that. Zhangjing quietly marvels at the other’s adaptability.

 

“Is he trying to snack between practice again?” A grin is on Yanjun’s face as he walks towards the duo. There is a slight expression of guilt on the older boy’s face, though Yanjun thinks that it is due to being caught snacking instead of something else. “As much as I’d like to be a supportive boyfriend and encourage your cravings, you should really consider your diet.”

 

“Leave me alone,” Zhangjing pouts, glaring daggers at Yanjun. “What’re you doing out here anyway? Are you done with practice already?”

 

“I need inspiration for my lyrics,” Yanjun’s reply is purposeful, “I thought you might be able to help me with it.”

 

“Me?” Zhangjing points to himself in disbelief. “I’m not the one with a self-composed song, though.”

 

Yanjun’s argument is that Zhangjing talks a lot, so that if he kept him company, he would definitely come by a stroke of inspiration. Before Zhangjing retorts, Chaoze excuses himself, wishing both of them ‘good luck’.

 

Chaoze knows it in his heart, mind and bones that they will need it.

 

Lots and lots of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My IP/9%/ZhangJun Twitter account is [@zhan9jun](https://twitter.com/zhan9jun) \- come poke me if you'd like to scream about ZhangJun *~*


	3. Chapter 3

Despite trying his best to focus on hitting that one difficult high note, Zhangjing can’t help but feel the weight of Yanjun’s stare. He had tried ignoring it since the younger boy had only asked for his company while he worked on his lyrics, but it was becoming more distracting by the second.

 

“Are your lyrics written on my face?” Zhangjing questions, tilting his head sideways. ”Or am I just that mesmerizing?”

 

Yanjun smirks in response and chides the other for being cute.

 

“Me? Cute?” Zhangjing’s eyes widen. “Are you actually Lin Yanjun? What have you done to my friend?”

 

The younger boy shrugs indifferently. “I’ve always thought so,” he confesses, “you just never take me seriously when I mention it, so I’ve stopped.”

 

“You diss me too much for me to take you seriously,” Zhangjing retorts, but feels heat rising to his cheeks. “So, why are you starting again?”

 

“Since we’re boyfriends, I thought I should play the part with more effort,” Yanjun’s gaze returns to the paper in his hands. “I don’t always diss you, by the way. I’m nice to you too.”

 

It is true.

 

Zhangjing knew it better than anyone else — that Yanjun, despite his cold demeanor, had looked out for him, worried about him, and taken care of him. Since their trainee days up till now. If anything, he had experienced first-hand the extent of how kind and warm Yanjun could be.

 

“You’re nice to everyone,” the older boy points out. “And you flirt with everyone too. Excessively.” Zhangjing rolls his eyes and even motions with his hands to make his point.

 

“Are you jealous?” Yanjun is smirking now, and Zhangjing feels goosebumps rising on his arms despite the running heater in the room. “Don’t be silly,” is Zhanjing’s immediate reply, because half of him wants to answer with a definite yes and he doesn’t understand why.

 

“I am, though,” Yanjun continues. “You’re close to everyone. You’re friendly, approachable, and _lovable_. I can’t stand back and do nothing while you run into everyone’s arms.”

 

Surprised at Yanjun’s sudden seriousness, Zhangjing is silent for a moment before clarifying that he absolutely does **not** run into the arms of others. Immediately, Yanjun begins to list out all the times he had been unnecessarily intimate with others. “You let Qin Fen carry you in front of everyone. Someone is always hugging you or have their arm over you. I also heard that even Nongnong carried you princess style,” there is a tinge of bitterness in Yanjun’s voice as his list comes to an end.

 

Zhangjing doesn’t even remember half the moments Yanjun had listed, and is surprised that the other has. “I’m just being friendly,” the older boy explains. “At least I don’t flirt as if I’m interested in everyone else.”

 

“I don’t flirt because I’m interested,” it is Yanjun’s turn to explain. “It’s just something I do naturally.” Zhangjing deadpans at the other’s explanation but doesn’t cut him off. “You know that, right?”

 

Zhangjing does. At least, it never really bothered him.

 

Not until yesterday.

 

Not until now.

 

“Does that change when you’re dating someone, then?” The words spill out of Zhangjing’s mouth before he can stop himself. Only because Zhangjing is genuinely curious — or so, that is what he tells himself.

 

“So you _are_ jealous,” Yanjun’s smirk seems permanently stuck on his face at this point and it irks Zhangjing. The older boy huffs and clarifies fiercely: “I’m just curious, because we’re in a fake relationship! Don’t expect me to become a jealous boyfriend.”

 

“You’re cute as one though,” Yanjun whispers so that Zhangjing doesn’t hear him. He lets his gaze linger on Zhangjing’s face — the older boy trying to put on a face of indifference but still clearly annoyed to be called out. Yanjun almost smiles at the sight, his gaze going soft before he catches himself. Looking away and clearing his throat, Yanjun asks: “When was the last time you saw me flirting with someone?”

 

“I don’t need to see it for it to happen.” Zhangjing sounds like he is **_entirely_ ** jealous and Yanjun can’t help but suppress a grin.

 

“Fair enough, but I’ve stopped since a few days ago. I’ve only been flirting with you lately, in case you’ve been drowning in too much food to notice. I’ve given all my attention to practicing — and you.”

 

The way Yanjun says it is so natural, Zhangjing doesn’t know if he should glare daggers at the other or blush.

 

He ends up doing both.

 

* * *

 

To Yanjun, Zhangjing is really attractive when the older boy is immersed in his personal practice sessions. When his voice echoes off the walls, when his eyes are closed in concentration and when his hands move to compliment the melody.

 

At times like these, Yanjun finds it really easy to sneak up on the other, so he does. Making his way to the center of the almost-empty room, the younger boy stands behind his pretend-boyfriend and leans down to whisper right next to his ear: “Baby, let’s go for a walk.”

 

Zhangjing’s note is abruptly cut and the older boy jumps ahead with a small scream. Covering his mouth immediately with his hands, Zhangjing glares at Yanjun accusingly. “Don’t scare me like that!” He moves to slap the younger boy on the chest as Yanjun tries to shield himself.

Yanjun feels the urge to hold Zhangjing’s hands. Of course, in attempt to stop the other’s assault. And perhaps just slightly because he missed the feeling of his fingers around the other’s. Instead, he apologizes half-heartedly — because he **had** intended to scare Zhangjing — Yanjun asks the other if he is almost done practicing and repeats his invitation.

 

“I’m not done,” Zhangjing sounds beaten, “there’s this one note I just can’t get right…”

 

“Anything I can do to help?”

 

“How about you stop sneaking up on me like that? What if I get a heart attack?” Yanjun smirks as the other rambles on while nagging at him. “After that, you can ask the Gods of Performances to bless me,” Zhangjing sits down on the floor, “so that I will never go off-tune, and slay every high note that I sing.”

 

Yanjun doesn’t waste time, joining the other on the floor and sitting as close to Zhangjing as possible without the other fidgeting away. “You barely go off-tune. And you’ve slayed every high note for performances so far, you’ll be fine.”

 

Zhangjing leans back to lay on the floor and looks up at Yanjun with a mix of disbelief and appreciation. “Thanks, I guess.” Yanjun follows his actions, but leans down on his side next to Zhangjing instead, resting his head on his hand to look down at the other. “What did Teacher Li say during your session?”

 

“He said there’s nothing much for me to fix , that I just have to keep it up,” Zhangjing pauses and looks away from Yanjun to gaze at the ceiling instead. His voice is soft when he continues: “He’s surprised that I managed to emote so well.”

 

“That’s great,” the younger boy sounds less enthusiastic than he hoped to be, because it reminds him of their plan. It reminds him that his time as Zhangjing’s boyfriend, Zhangjin’s **_lover_ ** , is running out. He hopes they don’t have to discuss it now, or anytime soon.

 

Yet, Zhangjing seemed to think otherwise.

 

“It’s funny,” he starts, “we were supposed to break up so that I could understand, but we haven’t even gotten there yet.”

 

The words ‘does that mean we don’t have to break up’ surface in Yanjun’s mind, but never makes it past his lips. Instead, he moves to place an arm on the other size of Zhangjing’s body, trapping the other beneath his torso.

 

Yanjun no longer knows what expression he is wearing, and wonders if his usual mask of chic indifference is gone. “There’s something I forgot to ask,” he begins, and forgets his next words when Zhangjing’s lips part to gasp softly.

 

* * *

 

Ever since he joined Idol Producer, Zhangjing has grown to be less of a stranger to pre-performance anxiety. The feeling of invisible chains wrapping around his chest, the heavy silence that dimmed even the loud chants from the audience. Only his nervous heartbeats would remain, reminding him that he is alive and that he has to perform and do well.

 

As he looks up into Yanjun’s eyes — and the other’s face is so close that Zhangjing forgets how to breathe — he is reminded of how it feels like to be on the stage, waiting for a performance to unfold.

 

He ponders briefly about what words Yanjun would say next, but gives up quickly. Instead, he focuses on trying to breathe. When the younger boy doesn’t continue, Zhangjing’s heartbeats resound too loudly in his chest. He feels his throat tighten and his lips go dry, so he  instinctively swipes his tongue over them.

 

The younger boy’s gaze immediately darkens at his action, and all that registers in Zhangjing’s mind is that Yanjun is leaning lower, closer, and his lips are so dangerously close to his own.

 

But Yanjun moves away the next second. So swiftly that it seemed like Zhangjing had imagined it all in his head.

 

When he hears familiar voices from the corridor, his eyes dart towards Yanjun who is now seated next to him. The older boy feels somewhat relieved to see that the other is as flustered as he is.

 

He had not imagined it.

 

When Dinghao and Chaoze push the door open to peer inside, they stop in their tracks. “Are we interrupting something?” Dinghao asks immediately, never being one to beat around the bush.

 

Words fail Zhangjing then, so he is thankful when Yanjun answers with a casual ‘no’. Dinghao clearly doesn’t believe them, so he pushes Chaoze in first. “What were you guys up to?”

 

“Practice,” Zhangjing answers, a little too breathlessly.

 

“What… kind of practice?” Dinghao asks from behind Chaoze, pushing the other boy forward as if he were a shield.

 

“Alright kids, let’s stop right there,” Chaoze interrupts, “we have an impromptu recording to attend. Get moving. Auditorium C in fifteen minutes.”

 

Yanjun seems to have regained his composure, but Zhangjing’s legs feel too much like jelly, so he reaches to grab the younger boy’s hand when it is offered. “You’re heavy,” Yanjun comments, pretending to struggle as he helped Zhangjing up.

 

“You’re just weak,” Zhangjing retorts, but his voice is too soft to sound like one. Dinghao’s eyes narrow at them slightly, but neither of them comment any further as they make their way to the auditorium.

 

* * *

 

They are briefed that there will be paired interviews, so the trainees are split into smaller groups and assigned to different rooms. Yanjun’s lips lift ever so slightly when he looks at the board and sees who he is paired with.

 

A familiar laugh is heard behind him, followed by Zhangjing’s unmistakable Malaysian accent. Turning around, Yanjun is greeted by the sight of the older boy excitedly talking to Zhenting and Justin. His attention falls immediately to Justin’s arm around Zhangjing’s shoulder, then to Zhangjing’s hands in Zhengting’s.

 

Yanjun doesn’t consider himself a _very_ jealous man.

 

Slightly, perhaps, like he had admitted to Zhangjing earlier. After all, who wouldn’t be if the target of their affection paid more attention to someone else instead? However, Yanjun had never considered anyone as a rival in love. He had brazenly said it out loud during a recording before — because it was true. The part about him beating someone else up was partly true as well.

 

In all his years, Yanjun had never needed to vy for the attention of his crushes. He had always been the preferred choice, so having to fight almost ninety eight other people for Zhangjing’s attention had been something he wanted to deny.

 

That he still preferred to deny.

 

Still, he walks over to the trio and leans extra close to Zhangjing’s ear to ask if he knew who his assigned interview partner is. “Oh, I haven’t checked,” the older boy replies, his expression changing from a carefree one to one of guilty. “Let me go check now.”

 

As Zhangjing is released from Justin’s hold and Zhengting’s hands, Yanjun feels a twisted satisfaction within himself and tries hard to not smirk.

 

“It’s me, you snail,” he announces before Zhangjing moves towards the board.

 

“Oh,” Zhangjing turns to him with a wide smile, obviously happy at the arrangement. Yanjun can’t help but agree with a small grin in return.

 

“Let’s get going before we’re late,” the younger boy waves to the Yehua duo and walks ahead without waiting for Zhangjing, not wanting to dote on the other too much. It doesn’t faze Zhangjing in the slightest, however. The shorter boy catches up in a jiffy and wraps his arm around Yanjun’s, continuing to beam at him.

 

“Why’re you so happy?” Yanjun can’t help but tease. “Do you like being interviewed with me that much?”

 

As a blush spreads across Zhangjing’s cheek, as the other’s smile grows even wider, he answers with a soft yes before pressing his face briefly into the sleeve of Yanjun’s hoodie.

 

Yanjun hopes no one sees them then, because he is pretty sure his face is as flushed as Zhangjing’s is — and Lin Yanjun did not want to be seen blushing.

 

* * *

 

Their interview doesn’t take too long.

 

Both of them are seasoned speakers, so there is barely any need for retakes. If there were any bloopers, Yanjun guesses that they would probably be included as well, considering how natural and entertaining both of them were in front of the cameras.

 

It made Zhangjing one of his favourite people to record with: whether be it hosting a segment, unit interviews, paired prank segments — just anything and everything. He remembers the earlier days at Idol Producer. Yanjun had been rather reserved, but Zhangjing had endlessly pulled him along for every other random recording that he soon grew to unleash his cold jokes and charms with less inhibitions.

 

The older boy had a habit of seeking skinship with him — not that Yanjun has any complaints. Zhangjing would reach to hold his arm or slap him lightly, depending on whether his words entertained or embarrassed him. Sometimes, he knows that Zhangjing reaches for him because he needed comfort or affirmation.

 

He wonders if Zhangjing knew he felt the same from his touches.

 

“It seems like everyone else is still recording,” Zhangjing muses out loud as they walk through the corridor. “Are we supposed to head back to the practice rooms?”

 

“The staff mentioned that we could go off to practice or take a break if we finished our interviews earlier. You weren’t listening at the auditorium, were you?” Yanjun shakes his head and is reminded of how distracted Zhangjing was while chatting with the Yehua duo earlier. He tries not to sound bitter in the least.

 

Looking guilty for a moment, as if knowing he missed the announcement because he had been busy chatting with others, Zhangjing quickly suggests resuming practice. Yanjun looks at him in slight disbelief, not because he is surprised that Zhangjing is a monster when it comes to improving his vocals, but because dinner would begin in less than an hour’s time.

 

The usual Zhangjing would prefer to arrive at the cafeteria earlier if their schedule allowed, just so he wouldn’t miss out on the dishes he preferred. Yanjun figures that the upcoming performance must really be weighing on the other’s mind, so he agrees and smiles encouragingly at the other.

 

As the older boy shuffles to the practice room of his choice, Yanjun follows right behind. When Zhangjing stops abruptly, the younger boy almost knocks into him. “How did your lyric-writing go?”

 

“It’s done, somewhat. I’ve written them, but I feel like I’d change them later.”

 

“So you’re not entirely satisfied, then,” Zhangjing concludes as he steps into a practice room. Yanjun notices that it is Zhangjing’s favourite room  — the one that Zhangjing practiced in day and night before he rose from Rank B to Rank A .

 

“There’s always room for improvement,” Yanjun replies and almost walks into Zhangjing when the other turns around abruptly. Eyes widening, Zhanjing whispers an apology before moving to turn away, but Yanjun reaches to place a hand on his shoulder.

 

A silent request for him to stay.

 

Zhangjing bites his bottom lip and Yanjun’s mind goes blank briefly before he remembers what he meant to say. But Zhangjing proves to be the unpredictable soul that he is, beating him to the punch. “Did you have something you wanted to tell me? We were interrupted earlier…” The way Zhangjing’s sentence trails off is as if they had been caught doing something indecent. Yanjun almost wants to tease him about it, but decides to get back to the matter at hand.

 

Nodding, with his hand still on the shorter boy’s shoulder, Yanjun tells him that they never discussed how Zhangjing would thank him in return for the dating favour. The other’s brows knit in response, so Yanjun thinks that Zhangjing is angry that he would ask for something in return.

 

However, he isn’t. Zhangjing’s eyes peer intently into Yanjun’s as he asks: “What do you want in return, then?”

 

Many things come to mind at the question.

 

 _You._  A lifetime supply of bread.

 

 _For this relationship to last longer._ That you’d be my personal helper for a day.

 

“How about treating me to a proper meal when this is all done?” Yanjun hates his choice as soon as he makes it.

 

“Deal,” Zhangjing beams at him, but his smile falters the next second. “That is, if we’re still together when this ends.”

 

They both understand the meaning behind the words: that there was a chance of either one of them making it into Top Nine and debuting, while the other won’t. But while Zhangjing just wants to debut with his labelmates, Yanjun wonders how long it would take for him to get used to not having the Malaysian around if they didn’t end up together.

 

“I really hope we’ll both make it,” Yanjun’s voice comes out much softer than he had intended it to, causing the side of Zhangjing’s lips to lift. The older boy tells him he’s being unusually cheesy and reaches to squeeze both of Yanjun’s hands.

 

“But I hope so too.”

 

* * *

 

Yanjun doesn’t break up with Zhangjing that night.

 

The older boy doesn’t ask why or when, merely letting himself be whisked away for another walk in the frosty night air after the clock strikes twelve. Yanjun’s hand reaches for his naturally, holding it tight.

 

Even though it is only the second time they have done so, it already feels more than familiar.

 

Zhangjing doesn’t protest. Yanjun no longer expects the other to.

 

The older boy shivers when the wind blows and Yanjun moves closer, teasingly wondering out loud about how it is possible that Zhangjing still feels cold so easily despite all the food he had consumed. Shooting him an icy glare that only lasts seconds, Zhangjing huffs and shifts even closer to the other.

 

“Let’s do this,” Yanjun suggests, pocketing their intertwined fingers into the pocket of his winter coat. It is a small act, but it somehow manages to relieve Zhangjing’s stress over the upcoming performance.

 

When they stay out too long and Zhangjing can’t feel his face, he complains, only to feel Yanjun’s hands cupping his cheeks. The younger boy’s leans down to look into his eyes and their faces are close, a bit too close — and Zhangjing holds his breath for reasons unknown.

 

He doesn’t know how long they spend gazing into each other’s eyes, until Yanjun finally smirks and chuckles. Zhangjing feels his cheeks burning and avoids looking at Yanjun on the way back to the dorm.

 

If he had looked at the other, he would have noticed Yanjun’s flushed cheeks.

 

He would have noticed the look of restrained yearning in the younger boy’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been getting enough sleep, hence the slow update — many apologies!
> 
> As usual, I would to thank [sunspritecyj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspritecyj/pseuds/sunspritecyj) for beta-reading! She saved you from so many sleepy typos and is also to thank for a few subtly soft moments (〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃)
> 
> Also, thank you all for commenting — be it here or on Twitter. Your words really encourage me to write more (and faster, heh)! Speaking of which, this was originally planned to be three chapters long. However, we are at three chapters, and I have rambled SO much. I hope to wrap it up in another two chapters or so!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made it in time for the weekend!
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by a few late-nights and the ever-amazing [sunspritecyj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspritecyj/pseuds/sunspritecyj), my life-saving beta-reader ♥
> 
> Will be heading back home for almost a week, so I will only update after. Thank you for all the comments, messages and kudos!  
> Hope you'll enjoy this chapter! :)

Zhangjing dreams of green fields topped with vivid flowers, of blue skies and laughter.

 

Yanjun’s deep laughter.

 

Dazedly, he takes in Yanjun’s handsome face next to his on the field, the younger boy’s hand above his. There is a sparkle in Yanjun’s eyes as he gazes at Zhanjing, eliciting a flurry of butterflies in the older boy’s stomach.

 

Was he supposed to be **_this_ ** enamored by Yanjun?

 

Of course, he had always complimented the other for being handsome, had always enjoyed being close to the other — they are best friends after all — but the ever-growing tinge of _something_ new within Zhangjing’s feelings towards the other unnerved him.

 

Despite knowing that it is a dream, Zhangjing’s heartbeat still skips faster when Yanjun reaches to caress his cheek. The younger boy’s fingers slide down towards his neck to hold his arm, keeping Zhangjing from fidgeting as he leaned in closer. Closing his eyes tightly, Zhangjing forgets how to breathe as he waits.

 

The brush across his lips is soft, _too_ plush, too **_real_ ** — so Zhangjing’s eyes open abruptly, only to be greeted by the dull white ceiling of his shared room. Because something feels out of place, his eyes dart around and he is greeted by the sight of Yanjun seated at the foot of his bed.

 

“Morning,” Yanjun lifts his hand to wave, “time to get up.”

 

Zhangjing is too sleepy and confused to form a coherent reply immediately, so he merely tugs his blanket higher to cover his face. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles. There is no protest from the younger boy, so Zhangjing lets himself drift back into slumber.

 

But sleep doesn’t come as quickly, especially not when he feels Yanjun move to lie beside him. He feels Yanjun’s chest against his back as the other’s arm moves to rest over his waist. It is the second day Yanjun has climbed to his bed to sleep with him, but Zhangjing still feels giddily nervous.

 

The tension in him wears out fast, however, losing to the exhaustion and drowsiness. As he falls asleep, Zhangjing tries to convince himself that sleeping next to Yanjun isn’t **that** amazingly comfortable.

 

That he could probably live without it, especially when their fake relationship ended.

 

Whenever that would be.

 

* * *

 

Neither of them mention their impending break up.

 

Instead, Zhangjing lets himself bask in the increased amount of attention from Yanjun. He enjoys the times when Yanjun would randomly visit him during practices, the times when the other would sit close to him during group recordings just so he could lean into him while no one else noticed, and the daily walks Yanjun would drag him out for.

 

Sometimes, they are in between practice sessions and recordings.

 

Sometimes, the two of them brave the chilly midnight air.

 

Sometimes, their walks are full of chatter and laughter.

 

Sometimes, they stroll in a comfortable silence.

 

Zhangjing doesn’t tell the other, but he takes delight in the way Yanjun continuously and wordlessly reaches over to intertwine their fingers during those walks. As if it is a decade-long habit he didn’t want to grow out of and _tightly_ , as if the spaces between Yanjun’s fingers were made just for Zhangjing to fill in.

 

What he does tell Yanjun, however, is that he greatly appreciates it whenever the other pulls him to a secluded corner to gift him with snacks.

 

He doesn’t tell the younger boy about how his breath catches in his throat when Yanjun leans in closer than usual to whisper lame jokes into his ear. Neither does he mention the fact that he notices the increased amount of time Yanjun spends gazing at him: be it during recordings or when they are just lounging around with the others.

 

But he does tell Yanjun they look like kindergarten rebels sneaking off to eat, in whispers and hushed laughter.

 

“I should stop feeding you,” Yanjun muses out loud once. The older boy protests, asking him why he would think such horrible thoughts. “Good boyfriends don’t starve each other,” Zhangjing notes, munching the last of the bread from the other.

 

Chuckling, Yanjun replies that he is being starved. Raising an eyebrow, Zhangjing gives him the most confused look he can muster. “I know I steal a lot of leftovers in the room, but I’ve never taken your food,” he says, just to be sure.

 

“You’re starving me of skinship,” Yanjun continues, earning himself an eyeroll. He doesn’t miss the sudden blush that spreads over Zhangjing’s cheeks.

 

“You’re always holding my hand!” The older boy’s voice is furious.

 

Furiously embarrassed.

 

Yanjun is delighted at the sight.

 

“We _only_ hold hands,” Yanjun is feeling brave and impatient. “You let Zhengting hold your hands yesterday.” Zhangjing looks at Yanjun incredulously and emphasizes that it is merely a platonic gesture. It sparks a ridiculous debate between them: about whether _their_ hand-holding is merely for show.

 

“I’ll stop holding your hand, then,” Yanjun threatens jokingly, “since it doesn’t mean much to you.”

 

Somehow, the look of horrified reluctance on Zhangjing’s face satisfied Yanjun more than it makes him laugh. Protesting over the fact that Yanjun is putting words into his mouth, the older boy crosses his arms and pouts.

 

Zhangjing’s next words never register in Yanjun’s head. Instead, the younger boy’s mind is only filled with thoughts of how adorable the other looks, of urges to grab the other by the face to press their lips together.

 

It isn’t until Zhangjing reaches to squeeze his arm that he realizes he had been in a daze. The other’s hand remains as he looks at Yanjun with an expression of annoyed mixed with a tinge of worry. “Are you alright?”

 

“If I say I’m ill, will you kiss me to make me feel better?”

 

Yanjun feels Zhangjing’s fingers pinching him - with just enough force to prove his point and not to actually hurt him - but the other is silent, as if choosing his next words carefully.

 

“If you’re ill, Lin Yanjun,” Zhangjing says with a serious expression on his flushing face, “you should eat medicine.”

 

* * *

 

“You Zhangjing,” Dinghao’s voice is dripping with judgement, “Lin Yanjun is at the door.”

 

It is the umpteenth time that Yanjun has dropped by their practice room that day, so Zhangjing doesn’t really blame the other for feeling bored over Yanjun’s presence. Of course, **he** doesn’t feel that way.

 

Yanjun wasn’t one of his best friends for nothing. The mere presence of the younger boy lifted his spirits. Someone he could tease without worrying about hurting his feelings, because they were too familiar to take offense from such trivial things; someone he could count on when things went wildly fun, but also someone whom he could lean on in trying times.

 

“Are you ditching practice to go dating?” Linong calls after him, not really expecting an answer. Some other group members grin at Zhangjing while some join in the teasing, but Dinghao just rolls his eyes. “Practice ended fifteen minutes ago, Nongnong,” Zhangjing reminds with a knowing smile.

 

Linong clarifies that he is just teasing the other, but adds that he’ll soon forget how Zhangjing looks like if he is constantly whisked away by Yanjun of the Zero Group. Offering the younger boy a weak smile, Zhangjing makes his way towards the door and slips out, his face immediately lighting up at the sight of Yanjun.

 

“What’s up?” Zhangjing barely closes the door behind him before Yanjun leans down to rest his forehead on his shoulder. “I’m exhausted,” Yanjun announces, his voice reflecting his words. Usually, the older boy would not put up with someone taller leaning down on him. It reminded him of his lack in height — but Yanjun does sound very drained, and it **_is_ ** Yanjun after all, so he lets the other stay.

 

Nevertheless, since the other did sound at the brink of collapsing from their practice and recording schedule, Zhangjing doesn’t chide Yanjun. Instead, he reaches to pat and then stroke the younger boy’s back. “Dinner’s in less than an hour, you’ll survive.”

 

“I see you kept count,” Yanjun teases, but his voice is more strained than usual.

 

“Did you drink lots of water?”

 

“Water is for the weak,” Yanjun shifts to stand up, the warmth from his proximity leaving Zhangjing in an instant. “I consume Nongfu Spring Vitamin Water for our sponsor’s sake.”

 

Despite his worries, Zhangjing can’t help but laugh. “Whichever you prefer, little one.”

 

“I prefer your laughter and positivity to quench my parched soul,” Yanjun leans down again, this time just so he can see Zhangjing at eye level. “Nothing quite compares.”

 

Feeling his cheeks heat up instantly, Zhangjing shakes his head and applauds softly. “A poet now, are we? Your time spent on lyric-writing seems to have paid off.” The younger boy smiles at the comment and insists that it is only because of Zhangjing that he is where he is now.

 

“Well,” Zhangjing places his hands on his hips, “lucky for you, practice is over so my positivity is all for your to bask in. I can’t guarantee the laughter though, my throat is dying from practice. You’ll have to work extra hard on your jokes.”

 

A pensive expression crosses Yanjun’s face before he reaches to swing an arm around the other’s shoulder. “Considering our lack of vocal strength and energy at the moment, I have just the perfect idea.”

 

* * *

 

They are seated at a little patio outside the dorms, a place Zhangjing never noticed because it seemed out of bounds. Yanjun passes him a bottle of herbal tea to soothe their throats and the sun is out, casting a rare warmth over them on that winter day.

 

“I never knew we were allowed to enter,” Zhangjing struggles to open the bottle, so Yanjun chuckles and does it for him instead.

 

Watching the other take a gulp of the tea, Yanjun explains that it was initially out of bounds. “But one of the staff told me that they no longer use it so it’s free for all to access.”

 

Zhangjing licks his lips and shakes his head. “Were you flirting with that staff, Lin Yanjun?”

 

“No, I was procuring information to find a secluded dating spot so I could flirt with you instead.”

 

The older boy huffs in reply but smiles. “I appreciate the seclusion,” he notes, “because I have a feeling that Lu Dinghao might kill us the next time he comes across us walking hand-in-hand. Or whispering to each other. Or just being next to each other, at this rate.”

 

Yanjun laughs. “Did he threaten to?” Zhangjing shakes his head, but dramatically warns Yanjun that Dinghao’s annoyed glares could very well be suppressed aggression. He continues to say that Yanjun has it easy because he isn’t in the same group as Dinghao, who has yet to know about their fake relationship and is highly suspicious.

 

“Let’s tell him then,” the younger suggests, not expecting Zhangjing to shake his head wistfully. “The less people know, the better,” the older boy says.

 

The words blanket Yanjun in a sudden weight and words die at his tongue. His hand balls into a fist and he struggles to hold back irrational thoughts, finally managing to filter his words into: “Am I not a boyfriend you’re proud of?”

 

He tries to not sound too bitter, or too fragile — but Yanjun knows he still does anyway. Still, it is the least he can say without destroying whatever they had going. Or at least, whatever **_he_** thought they had going.

 

“Oh Yanjun,” Zhangjing immediately turns to face him, “you’re _perfect_.”

 

And with just those few words, Zhangjing has Yanjun’s stomach in a mess of knots and wild butterflies. Yanjun gazes at the other boy intensely, his mind suddenly blank and suddenly ablaze with a million questions. Before he voices any of them, Zhangjing looks downwards — as if suddenly finding his fingers interesting.

 

His cheeks begin to flush as he continues. “There’s nothing and no one who can convince me otherwise.” Zhangjing’s voice is soft and Yanjun summons all his willpower to stop himself from interrupting the other. “Despite your need to keep a cool image, you’re incredibly thoughtful and warm. Even if no one else says so, I **know** so.”

 

When Zhangjing turns to look at Yanjun, the younger boy’s heart almost stops at the strong look of sincerity in his eyes. “I really appreciate you, you know that right?”

 

Yanjun barely manages to utter a soft ‘of course’.

 

“What I mean to say is,” Zhangjing turns away again and Yanjun almost reaches to hold the other’s face in place. “I hope that this plan of ours won’t affect our relationship in a bad way. I’m only saying to keep it under wraps since,” he pauses to take a deep breath, “since it won’t last. I just prefer if not many know what is actually going on.”

 

Again, Yanjun closes his eyes, clenches his fists and utters a word of understanding.

 

“Are you upset?”

 

Zhangjing always reads him like a book, Yanjun thinks.

 

“Of course not, why would you say that?”

 

But he does feel upset, despite his statement.

 

Upset at himself for dating Zhangjing but not actually dating him.

 

Upset to have put himself right next to the other, but without a lasting privilege to hold him.

 

“I’m not hiding our relationship because of you,” Zhangjing’s voice is back to its usual lively tone. “You’re perfect in every possible way, alright? I’m thankful for you.”

 

Yanjun knows he should say something in reply, but he **_can’t_ **. So he continues to look at Zhangjing, as if doing so will grant him the correct words to say, but Zhangjing continues to avert his gaze as silence blankets them.

 

When Zhangjing speaks again, his tone is so soft that Yanjun’ almost misses the crack in his voice.

 

“Do you regret asking to date me?”

 

“Never.”

 

Yanjun watches as Zhangjing jumps slightly at his immediate and sure response. Watches as Zhangjing’s eyes widen, as the other’s lips part; as his eyes narrow from the smile that is lifting the corner of his lips, as tears gather in the other’s expressive eyes.

 

Unable to stop himself, Yanjun chuckles and asks: “Are you so touched that you’re crying?”

 

Zhangjing blinks his tears away to glare in response, and pouts. “You’re so unromantic,” he complains, “way to ruin the moment.” Despite the other’s words, Yanjun notices the other struggling to keep his pout — the side of the older boy’s lips twitching into a smile.

 

“Let me fix it, then.”

 

Reaching to lightly grasp the other’s chin, Yanjun leans down to press a kiss on Zhangjing’s forehead.

 

Immediately, he feels the older boy freeze at his actions and wonders if it is too late to regret his spontaneous urge. Yanjun tries not to regret too many things in his life, so he lets his lips linger on longer than he intended to, just so he can make the best out of whatever mess his feelings had thrown him into.

 

When he leans back to look at Zhangjing’s expression, his heart skips a beat. Yanjun had seen a fair share of cute blushing girls, but none of them quite compared to how adorable the boy before him looked. From his slightly parted lips to his entirely flushed face, and his doe eyes that seemed to strip Yanjun of all coherent thoughts.

 

The younger boy wishes that the moment would last longer. That he could etch the image of how Zhangjing looked after a kiss — even if it wasn’t a kiss on the lips — into his mind forever. But he hears their names being called and curses inwardly.

 

Chaoze had probably gone in search for them to head to the cafeteria together. As much as he usually appreciated it, Yanjun laments it just this once.

 

Zhangjing hears it too, Yanjun can tell from the way the other’s gaze start wandering. With that, the magic of the moment is broken and a silver of dread creeps upon Yanjun.

 

However, Zhangjing is someone who never fails to amuse and surprise Yanjun. It is one of the Malaysian boy’s charms that he grew to be greatly fond of.

 

Chaoze’s voice is getting closer and Yanjun is about to suggest that they move to meet him when Zhangjing closes his eyes.

 

Getting on his tiptoes, the older boy presses a light kiss on Yanjun’s cheek, very near the side of his lips, and flashes a bright smile at Yanjun right after.

 

If Yanjun had not realized it before, he knew right then the extent of his feelings for the other.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to my beta-reader, [sunspritecyj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspritecyj) ♥  
> Thank you for all the comments and messages, you all (ˊ̥̥̥̥̥ ³ ˋ̥̥̥̥̥) I truly appreciate the feedback!!  
> This chapter ended up longer than I originally planned — hope you'll enjoy the update!

Zhangjing is unable to look Yanjun in the eye during dinner.

 

Or even after when they part ways for group practice.

 

Yanjun, however, doesn’t bother removing his gaze from the older boy the entire time they are together. He fixes a smoldering look on Zhangjing throughout dinner, the other’s lips distracting him a lot more than usual — all thanks to the kiss Yanjun still felt on his cheek.

 

Their gazes meet just once and the older boy blushes furiously, bites his lower lip, and averts his eyes immediately with a slight smile. Yanjun had never seen the other that way before and it makes him all the more restless. The younger boy can only think about ditching practice just so he can to pull Zhangjing aside to ask him what his kiss had been about.

 

Was it a friendly kiss? Like those used as a greeting?

 

Was it just a response to his action of kissing his forehead first? An teasing reply to his action?

 

Did it mean anything more? Or… something less than what Yanjun hoped it would be?

 

However, following a schedule and living with a whole group of people meant that Yanjun couldn’t have things the way he wanted. So he tries his luck by taking toilet breaks to purposely pass by the Quit Smoking group’s practice room.

 

Unfortunately, he manages to bump into Zhenting and Linong — but not the person he wants to talk to. He even crosses paths with Dinghao, who throws him a suspicious glance.

 

With their schedule ending earlier than expected, a few others invite themselves over to their shared room. As he looks at the group huddled in their room, Yanjun gives up trying to talk to Zhangjing alone anytime soon.

 

Instead, he joins the others in a conversation hopping from a random topic to another, just so they can take their minds off the stress of the competition. While Zhangjing is talking animatedly next to Linong on the other’s bed, Yanjun doesn’t really hear what the others are saying. The voices in the room are muted and his eyes always find their way back to Zhangjing.

 

His thoughts always returning to the memory of Zhangjing’s surprise kiss.

 

And the questions that came with the action.

 

“What about you, what’s your ideal type?”

 

It takes a while for Yanjun to register that the question is directed at him. With many pairs of eyes on him, Yanjun shrugs. “You know that you never end up with the people you deem as your ideal type, right?”

 

“Don’t avoid the question and just answer,” Dinghao says exasperatedly, as if already expecting Yanjun to dodge the question.

 

Yanjun half-smiles, caught off guard by the sudden question. “I don’t think I’ve ever had an ideal type,” he starts, earning sounds of complaints, “but I guess I’d like someone smart and funny.”

 

“That’s a boring answer,” Zhengting concludes.

 

“Going by what Yanjun said earlier, he’ll definitely **not** end up with someone smart and funny then?” Justin points out. Linong chooses that time to cough violently while the others tease Yanjun. The younger boy, however, looks towards Zhangjing.

 

The older boy had laughed softly and then shifted backwards towards the wall, letting the shadow of the top bunk hide his face.

 

“I’d like to think I’ll be lucky,” Yanjun cuts in through the chatter, “I think I’ll end up with someone smart, funny and bright.”

 

“Is that me?” Justin asks immediately, earning himself a handful of taunts. Yanjun doesn’t reply, trying instead to read Zhangjing’s expression. It proves to be impossible considering the lack of light on the other’s face, and he sighs inwardly.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Dinghao is asleep on Chaoze’s top bunk and its original owner is frowning from the floor. “Guess I’ll be going to his bed, then,” Chaoze announces as Linong bids him farewell apologetically.

 

“Take my bed,” Zhangjing offers as he hops off Linong’s bottom bunk. “I’ll go sleep there instead, you always complain about the amount of stuff on Dinghao’s bed. And you **_loathe_ ** bottom bunks.”

 

Chaoze is about to reply when Yanjun cuts in and offers his bed to Zhangjing. “Don’t you hate sleeping in someone else’s bed?” Chaoze reminds him, then pauses. “Although, considering the fact that you slept in Zhangjing’s bed the other day, I guess not anymore.”

 

“It’s late, let’s just sleep,” Yanjun brushes it off and motions for Zhangjing to take his bed.

 

“Won’t it be uncomfortable with two people squashed in a single bed?” Zhangjing ponders out loud. Yanjun wonders if it is his way of politely declining.

 

“Unless you think you’ll somehow manage to take up all that space, I’m entirely fine with sharing,” he replies, earning himself a glare from Zhangjing. “We’ve done this a few times back at the trainee dorms, anyway,” Yanjun reminds him. “Or I’ll just go to Dinghao’s room, alright?”

 

“I’m going to wake up to you three still deciding on bed arrangements,” Linong laments softly as he pulls the blanket over himself. “Just solve it with rock-paper-scissors.”

 

“I’ll go,” Yanjun says with a tone that suggested no one else to argue with him over it, and heads towards the door. Chaoze moves to climb towards Zhangjing’s bed, obviously tired and just wanting to sleep.

 

“Stay.”

 

Yanjun stops right with his hand on the door knob and turns to look at Zhangjing. “Stay,” the other repeats, a blush already on his face. “I’ll sleep with you on your bed.” A grin tugs at Yanjun’s lips and the younger boy doesn’t bother fighting it.

 

Nor does he care about the giggle from Linong as he bids them goodnight; or Chaoze’s threat of strangling them if he wakes up to weird noises in the middle of the night.

 

* * *

 

They end up sleeping together, with Yanjun entirely clothed despite his usual habit of sleeping topless. Zhangjing had made sure he would, before climbing into the bed after the younger boy and immediately facing outward. Yanjun supposes that Zhangjing is still not done mulling over whatever is in his mind since their abrupt post-kiss parting earlier.

 

Still, it doesn’t take away the grin on his face.

 

The lights are off but the ambient glow through the windows is enough for him to make out Zhangjing’s smaller frame right before his eyes. It takes Yanjun every drop of willpower to stop himself from reaching out to run his fingers through the other’s hair, or to wrap an arm around the shorter boy.

 

Yet, he finds that his willpower is decreasing by the seconds  when it comes to anything related to Zhangjing.

 

Moving forward, Yanjun lets his lips brush against Zhangjing’s ear softly as he whispers ‘good night’. The older boy trembles immediately at the contact and a soft gasp escapes the other’s lips. Yanjun barely has time to chuckle or regret his actions before Zhangjing turns around to frown at him.

 

“Why did you do that,” Zhangjing whispers fiercely. Yanjun thanks all that is good for the light that is just enough for him to see the adorably annoyed expression on the older boy’s face.

 

“Just bidding you goodnight, sorry,” the younger boy replies, not really meaning his apology.

 

He feels a light punch on his chest right after, and this time, he does chuckle out loud. Chaoze hushes them from the top bunk, clearly irked. Somehow, being united in annoying Chaoze causes the awkward tension between them to dissipate and the two end up giggling as quietly as possible.

 

Yanjun watches as Zhangjing covers his mouth with his hands until he can stop giggling. When they are both entirely silent, the younger boy smiles hopefully at the other. “Can we talk?”

 

Zhangjing licks his lips and nods. “What about?”

 

At the question, worry fills Yanjun. Did Zhangjing not want to talk about the same thing? About what happened?

 

Could it really be that it was a casual action of appreciation, and that he had been looking into it too much?

 

Would bringing it up make things worse for them?

 

For him?

 

In the end, Yanjun decides to ask Zhangjing about why he had been avoiding him since dinner. Even if it wasn’t what he originally intended to ask about, at least it was somewhat related. If the conversation took a bad turn, he could still find a way to steer somewhere else.

 

Zhangjing doesn’t answer immediately and it unnerves Yanjun a whole lot, but he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he waits, listening to his frantic heartbeats and the dull hum of the heater.

 

“I had a lot on my mind,” Zhangjing finally replies softly. “Sorry.”

 

It isn’t the answer Yanjun wanted to hear, but it isn’t the worst he expected either. At least, Zhangjing is talking to him as per normal, so it couldn’t mean anything bad for him. “Do you want to talk about it? Anything I can help you with?”

 

“It’s fine, it’s just something I want to sort out,” Zhangjing ends with a sweet and assuring smile, so Yanjun doesn’t argue with him otherwise. “All the best, then,” he wishes instead.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Neither of them close their eyes to sleep.

 

Yanjun doesn’t know how long Zhangjing is looking at him with a contented smile on his face. Sometimes blinking and then his lips widening to beam at Yanjun before turning back into a tender grin.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” Yanjun asks after a while, when it is evident neither of them intend on sleeping anytime soon.

 

“You already are,” Zhangjing smiles at Yanjun tenderly in reply, with amusement in his eyes.

 

“Right, so,” the younger boy pauses, taking a deep breath and summoning all his courage. “Remember when I asked about what you’d do for me in return for this dating favour?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you think I can change my mind? I don’t want you to treat me to a meal.”

 

“It depends.” There is caution in Zhangjing’s tone. “I’m not going to be your slave for a year, if that’s what you’re changing it to.”

 

“It’s not that bad,” Yanjun surpresses a laugh, “at least, I think not. Maybe?”

 

“Just tell me.”

 

Somehow, in between his nervousness and eagerness, the words jumble up on Yanjun’s tongue and they spill out in gibberish. Zhangjing raises a sleepy eyebrow at the younger boy as he smiles apologetically in reply. “Is it that bad or are you just teasing me?”

 

“I’m not, I’m trying to, please don’t make any more nervous than I already am,” Yanjun pleads softly, reaching to find and hold Zhangjing’s fingers loosely. The older boy doesn’t shake off Yanjun’s hold. Instead, he huffs and waits.

 

“A kiss,” Yanjun manages after a short silence. “I want a kiss in return.”

 

Zhangjing’s lips part and his eyes widen - an expression that Yanjun seemed to be seeing a lot of recently, all thanks to his words and actions. The older boy’s eyebrows furrow and he closes his eyes to take a deep breath. Yanjun decides that he will say it is all a joke if things turn sour, but hopes for the best.

 

“What kind of kiss?”

 

Yanjun smirks. “What kind are you thinking of? I didn’t know you were that naughty,” he teases, “and you even insisted that I should not sleep topless tonight. How misleading.” Immediately, Yanjun feels a strong pinch on his forearm and has to bite back a yelp.

 

“Don’t you know better than to be mean when asking for something?” Zhangjing almost growls his warning. Yanjun adds a mental note to annoy Zhangjing more just so he can hear the other use **_that_ ** specific tone more often.

 

“Old habits die hard, baby.” Even in the dim light, Yanjun doesn’t miss Zhangjing’s eye roll. “I apologize, but does that mean it’s a no?”

 

“You never answered me,” the older boy’s voice is laced with impatience and Yanjun secretly enjoys it. “And I meant what kind of kiss, as in, a kiss on the hand? On the cheek?”

 

“What would you be comfortable with?”

 

“A flying kiss.”

 

Yanjun sighs dejectedly at the other’s reply. “How disappointing.”

 

“I didn’t know you wanted to kiss me so badly.”

 

“Well,” Yanjun tries to sound as nonchalant as he can, “since this is a weirdly amusing favour, I want something weirdly amusing in return. A meal is just too boring.”

 

“You have some weird logic going on in your mind, Lin Yanjun.”

 

“I thought you’d be used to it by now,” Yanjun feigns hurt, earning an amused smile from the other. Then, he continues in a cautious whisper: “I’d like a kiss shared between boyfriends.”

 

He watches as Zhangjing licks his lips again and he almost wants to tell the other to stop it because it is too distracting, considering their topic at hand. When Zhangjing speaks, the words aren’t what Yanjun expects. It isn’t a confirmation nor a rejection — the older boy simply says he has no idea what a kiss shared between boyfriends is like since he has never had a lover before.

 

Yanjun almost screams after hearing Zhangjing’s confession. Sure, the topic of dating had been brought up while they were training at Banana Culture, but Zhangjing never mentioned much, only saying that he travelled all the way from Malaysia to focus on his career and nothing else.

 

Yet to actually know that Zhangjing never dated anyone before, much less kissed anyone romantically — made Yanjun more than ecstatic.

 

“If I kissed you on the lips right now, would I be the first?”

 

“If I let you,” Zhangjing reminds and emphasizes, “yes.”

 

“Then, since you don’t know how a boyfriend’s kiss is like,” Yanjun is pushing his luck and he knows it too well, with a voice screaming at him from the back of his mind — but things have progressed too far and well for him to back out and regret now. “Can I kiss you now so you’ll know?”

 

The word ‘sure’ barely leaves Zhangjing’s lips before Yanjun’s fingers are at his chin, tilting his head as he leans in closer. His own heartbeats are all that fill the younger boy’s ears as he drowns in a surreal haze, watching as Zhangjing closed his eyes. The older boy seems calm, as if he had been preparing for this moment his entire life — as opposed to Yanjun’s restlessness — ironically, despite being the one who suggested it all in the first place.

 

When his lips meet the other’s, Yanjun feels as if he is a caged bird that has finally been released to soar the wide sky; at the same time feeling as if he is enveloped beneath waves of senses.

 

Zhangjing’s lips feel just like he always thought they would be: soft and warm, and also unexpectedly tasting of his strawberry-flavoured toothpaste. The older boy is holding his breath, so Yanjun moves his thumb to caress the other’s cheek softly, smiling into the kiss when he feels Zhangjing breathing again.

 

Despite wanting to, Yanjun holds back from deepening the kiss, choosing instead to move his lips gently against the other’s. Zhangjing is shy and Yanjun finds it adorable and very attractive at the same time, so he lets the other boy return hesitant presses and decides to not be the one breaking the kiss.

 

Also because he cannot bring himself to do it.

 

He loses track of how long their lips are locked in that slow and mesmerizing dance, Yanjun wanting it to never end and wondering if the boy at the other end of the kiss shared the same thought. When Zhangjing lets out a small sound of satisfaction, Yanjun finds his fingers tangled in the other’s hair; and the older boy’s fingers grasping the front of his shirt.

 

Their lips part for the shortest of seconds and Zhangjing whispers Yanjun’s name: an exclamation, a request, an encouragement. So Yanjun complies, moving so that the other boy now lay beneath him, making it easier for him to pepper the other’s inquiring lips with more kisses, nips and bites.

 

A groan escapes Yanjun’s lips when Zhangjing’s fingers find the exposed skin at his sides, and the older boy immediately removes his touch. Yanjun can feel the smirk on the older boy’s lips and the thought of Zhangjing teasing him chips away at the last of his inhibitions.

 

Grabbing the back of Zhanjing’s neck, he tilts the other’s head and licks the other’s lips, asking for an entry that is quickly granted. Yanjun almost laughs when he tastes more strawberry on the other’s tongue. With the older boy’s fingers tugging restlessly on his shirt, Yanjun decides to focus on the task at hand instead.

 

Contrary to his earlier submissiveness, Zhangjing shyness ebbs away and he begins to reciprocate Yanjun’s ministrations aggressively. The younger boy isn’t one to surrender his dominance, so they both push and kiss and lick until they end up giggling into each other’s mouths.

 

Lying down on his back again, Yanjun looks sideways towards Zhangjing as he catches his breath — and his breath does catch, with the sight of Zhangjing’s hair tousled and the other breathing heavily. “That was nice,” the older boy concludes breathlessly, “tiring, but nice.”

 

“Is that a yes, then?” Yanjun feels ridiculous for being so impatient.

 

Zhangjing nods. “I’ll return your favour with a kiss,” he promises, scooting over towards Yanjun and sighing in content. “We should sleep now.”

 

And he does, but Yanjun lays awake for a lot longer — replaying the kiss in his head a thousand times over as he rejoiced over the other’s promise of _another kiss_. Even though there are a billion questions dancing in Yanjun’s mind, he is more than contented for now, and supposes that he will be able to address his thoughts at another time.

 

When the younger boy finally drifts into slumber, it is with a grin on his face.

 

* * *

 

“Wow, look at that. Like kittens bundled in a basket.”

 

“I’m sorry, but could you please not compare them to kittens."

 

“Why? I think Zhangjing can pass off as one, he’s adorable enough.”

 

“And Yanjun is a wild cat.”

 

Zhangjing stirs at the voice and unusual comments. He feels extra exhausted, physically; but as memories from the night before rush back to him, his mind feels refreshed and he actually bothers to open his eyes instead of trying to sleep in.

 

The sight of Linong, Chaoze and Dinghao peering down at him gives him enough shock to let out a startled yell.

 

“What’s wrong?” Yanjun’s sleep-laden voice follows immediately. The younger boy reaches touch Zhanging’s arm as he opens his eyes. After taking in the situation, he sits up and bids everyone a good morning. “Do you love us that much to watch us as we wake up?”

 

“We were deciding on who should be the on to wake you two up, but I guess that’s solved now,” Linong announces cheekily. Chaoze impatiently adds that they only have half an hour to get themselves into the styling room, looking at Zhangjing when he stresses that the thirty minutes included time for breakfast. The older boys lets out a sound of betrayal and moves out from under the blanket. “Why didn’t you wake us up sooner?”

 

“We tried,” Linong offers.

 

Yanjun watches in a daze as Zhangjing rushes towards the bathroom.

 

“We’ll be heading to the cafeteria first,” Dinghao announces as the three head towards the door. Before closing the door behind him, Chaoze steps back in with a word of advice. “Try not to take too long, you two. Keeping me up with your giggles is one thing, but don’t be late for practice, alright?”

 

Smirking, Yanjun salutes Chaoze as the other shakes his head and closes the door.

 

Zhangjing manages to get ready way sooner than he usually does, stumbling back into the room frantically to change his clothes. “Aren’t you going to get ready,” he asks, “I’ll wait for you before heading out.”

 

“Just go without me, else you’ll miss breakfast,” Yanjun urges as he moves towards the bathroom.

 

“I’m not that mean and you know it,” Zhangjing’s hands move to rest on his hips. “come on, get ready, I’ll wait.”

 

“Zhangjing,” Yanjun reaches to stroke the other’s hair. “I mean it, go have breakfast without me. Just promise me one thing in return.”

 

“Another promise?” Zhangjing closes his eyes at the touch of the other’s fingers brushing his cheek. “What is it?”

 

“That you’ll spare me some time after the first practice session is over, so we can talk.”

 

“Of course,” the older boy’s replies breathlessly, leaning into Yanjun’s retreating hand. The younger boy laughs and whispers that he if Zhangjing continues to be this adorable, they might really be late.

 

Bright laughter fills Yanjun’s ears as Zhangjing slaps his arm playfully. “Hurry up, I’ll sneak some food out for you from the cafeteria.”

 

“Thanks, baby.”

 

Again, Zhangjing blushes — but at this point, Yanjun doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of the sight. “You’re welcome”, is the other’s reply, complete with a light press of lips to his the younger boy’s cheek.

 

* * *

 

They manage to get their makeup done in time, whilst munching on the bread Zhangijng managed to sneak out from the cafeteria. As usual, cameras are all around, so the two behave themselves: engaging in friendly banter while the stylists finished off their job.

 

When they part ways for practice, Yanjun makes sure that they are in a secluded corner before catching the older boy off-guard with a kiss at the tip of his nose. As the familiar tinge of pink crosses Zhangjing’s cheeks, the older boy complains. “Linong is going to ask me if I’m feeling unwell again! And someone will ask me if I haven’t already eaten. Stop doing this to me right before practice, Lin Yanjun!”

 

Despite the other boy’s threatening tone, Yanjun merely smiles and nods. “I’ll keep it for after practice then. Remember your promise, alright? I’ll wait for you back at the dorm.”

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Zhangjing extends his pinky finger. Laughing, Yanjun reaches to curl his pinky around Zhangjing’s, giddy and excited.

 

Throughout practice, Yanjun is in great spirits. He executes his rap well enough, even for his own standards. The compliment from MC Jin only lifts his spirits higher. When practice ends early, Yanjun spends the remaining time going through the few things he wants to discuss with Zhangjing.

 

About their recent acts of affection and their relationship.

 

About whether there was still a need to break up, and if they could just stay together instead.

 

Yanjun is a realist, so he doesn’t hope for much — but with everything that has happened, he confidently felt that things would turn out the way he wanted them to.

 

That is, until he leaves the practice room to see Linong with an expression of panic and worry.

 

And sympathy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess, it's time to add the angst tag...?
> 
> I'm also on [Twitter @zhan9jun](https://twitter.com/zhan9jun) if you'd like to scream about ZhangJun over there with me :D I sell my soul to ZhangJun everyday and it'll be merrier if more join in!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to have more - but I ended up writing so much for the first part that I’ve decided to keep the next part for the next chapter instead (‘ｪ’;)
> 
> Forever thankful to my beta-reading fairy, [sunspritecyj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspritecyj/pseuds/sunspritecyj)!
> 
> If you’re the type who likes read while listening to music, I’d like to recommend a song to play while reading this chapter (besides Quit Smoking, that is): 水星記 by 郭頂. Listen to it on: [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENKFTmJxBaY) | [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/6DVxqVLMzxw2QG5Oj9Qll5?si=Oy6lnvTASICRt5UeE7Xn3A)

All Yanjun hears is the thumping of his own heart and ragged breaths as he sprints back towards the dorm. Yet, they aren’t enough to drown out Linong’s panicked voice .

 

_ “I think,” Linong hesitates before continuing, as if saying the words would make them true, “that Zhangjing is crying.” _

 

_ “Crying? What do you mean?” Yanjun doesn’t know why his voice comes out as angrier than it is worried. _

 

_ “He didn’t do so well at practice. Mentor Li commented that he isn’t singing with suitable emotions, that he needed to pull himself together in time for the performance.” _

 

_ “Was it a harsh comment? Zhangjing doesn’t usually…” Yanjun feels his throat constrict. “He’s obsessed about perfecting this stage, isn’t he?” _

 

_ “I think that he’s harder on himself than usual.” _

 

As Yanjun pushes through the main doors of the dorm, he wonders why he is freezing all over, only to realize that he had forgotten to wear his winter coat in his haste to find Zhangjing. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator, two steps at a time, he reaches the floor to their room and is about to turn the corner when he hears familiar voices.

 

“Don’t cry, Zhangjing.” Yanjun takes a while to recognize the voice as Wenjun’s. “Come here.”

 

For reasons he doesn’t understand, Yanjun decides to peer out from the side of the wall instead of revealing himself. The sight of Wenjun hugging Zhangjing, who is clearly sobbing into the other’s embrace, causes his heart to ache.

 

Half from jealousy, and another half from Linong’s earlier words.

 

_ “He was doing so well in the last practice, though. I wonder what happened to affect his performance so much this time. Did you guys have a fight right after we left the room?” _

 

_ Yanjun shakes his head, wondering if he had done anything wrong — only to be hit with a sudden realization: an inkling of what the cause might be. He isn’t one to be so oblivious, and not one to be so ignorant as to deny the consequences of recent events.  _

 

Not many get to see Zhangjing cry openly. The older boy preferred to be a ball of positivity and usually kept a smile on even when he was upset. Yanjun, of course, had seen him cry a handful of times. From the times when the Malaysian boy would sob in the middle of the night due to homesickness, to the times when practice weighed down on him too heavily alongside his extreme diet. It was something Yanjun held dear — to have been able to comfort Zhangjing at the times he needed the most.

 

To see him cry in someone else’s arms made him feel less special, and it makes him wonder about whether Zhangjing treasured him as much as he did the other. Or if it had all merely been wishful indulgence on his part.

 

The younger boy feels angry at himself for being jealous. Sure, he was posing as Zhangjing’s temporary boyfriend — but to actually feel possessive over the older boy, and to even feel bitter at the other’s skinship with someone else felt ridiculous to him.

 

A voice in his mind reminds him that what they have is merely temporary, if not entirely non-existent. 

 

A staged play.

 

An act. 

 

They weren’t exclusive and delaying the break up would just mean lying to themselves,  _ to himself _ , for that much longer. Yanjun doesn’t realize his nails are digging into his palm until it hurts too much.

 

“You were doing fine before,” Wenjun comforts the older boy in his arms, stroking his back rhythmically. “You’re good and I’m sure you’ll find your footing again.”

 

“It’s not that simple.” Hearing Zhangjing sound so unsure, so beaten, so  _ fragile _ — brings hot tears to Yanjun’s eyes. “But thanks, Wenjun. You better get going though, don’t miss lunch.”

 

“You’re not coming along?”

 

“I’m supposed to meet Yanjun,” the older boy says as he removes himself from Wenjun’s arms. The Yehua trainee smiles at Zhangjing tenderly. “Yanjun’s heading here?”

 

“I think so,” Zhangjing sounds happy, but Yanjun doesn’t miss the tinge of sorrow in his voice. Before leaving, Wenjun comments that he’s sure Yanjun will be able to cheer Zhangjing up in no time. 

 

When Wenjun passes by, Yanjun tries to look friendlier. He thinks he fails and ends up looking as if he would beat Wenjun up, but the Yehua boy looks back at him with a sad smile and whispers for him to take good care of Zhangjing.

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing feels dejected and heavy. 

 

The thought of meeting Yanjun lifts his spirits just ever so slightly before plunging him back into the depths of roaring turmoil. He sighs and slaps his cheeks lightly, telling himself to buck up out loud.

 

When a familiar voice calls his name, he jumps slightly and wipes his face — just to make sure there are no traces of tears left.

 

“Hi,” Zhangjing waves with a smile he has learned to wear even when he isn’t at his best. Yanjun doesn’t smile back immediately, the younger boy's eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Most would say that it is Yanjun’s default expression, but Zhangjing can feel the restrained anger emanating from the younger boy.

 

“You were crying,” Yanjun states matter-of-factly. Despite his attempt to look sheepish, Zhangjing ends up looking crestfallen instead. “You can tell?” He asks rhetorically. When the younger boy doesn’t reply but stares at him with a frown instead, Zhangjing continues in hopes of lightening the mood: “So, what did you want to talk about?”

 

Yanjun’s eyebrows knit even further at the question and he sighs in annoyance.  Usually, Zhangjing is spared from the other's temper. After all, everyone knew about the younger boy’s soft spot for him. However, during the times when Yanjun doesn’t bother reeling his anger in, Zhangjing knows that it is either due to something utterly unreasonable by Yanjun’s standards — or that it is something Zhangjing has screwed up big time.

 

Reaching for the older boy’s arm, Yanjun pulls him into their dorm room. Zhangjing allows himself to be led to the center where he stands awkwardly, suddenly unsure of how to react. When hears the door close and lock behind him, he turns to offer another forced smile.

 

The younger boy is having none of it, however. Crossing his arms and frowning, Yanjun says that he no longer wants to talk about what he had in mind. “Why don’t we talk about you instead?”

 

“Me? What about me?”

 

“Nongnong told me.” His sentence ends abruptly, allowing a deafening silence to fall upon them.

 

Biting his lower lip, Zhangjing takes a deep breath. “What did he tell you…?”

 

“Why don’t you take a guess?” The younger boy snaps, clearly displeased that Zhangjing is pretending not to know. 

 

“That I was upset during practice?” Zhangjing tries. “It’s not a big deal,” he insists. “I’m fine now.” As Yanjun’s face darkens, Zhangjing realizes that it isn’t the answer the younger boy had wanted to hear. “You’d tell Wenjun about what’s bothering you, let him comfort you — but you won’t do the same for me?”

 

“It’s not that,” the older boy starts, but the words get stuck in his throat. On a normal day, he would play off Yanjun’s annoyance and have them both on good terms in no time. On a normal day, he would reach to hold the other’s sleeve in hopes of dispelling his increasing temper. But his poor performance earlier had not put him in the best of moods, causing his mind to cloud and his tears threatening to spill.

 

In the end, they do. 

 

Rolling hotly down his cheeks as he looks helplessly at Yanjun. 

 

Zhangjing knows that the younger boy is one who doesn’t usually wear his heart on his sleeve, so it doesn’t surprise him that Yanjun merely stares at him in return. If anything, perhaps he only looked slightly less angry.

 

Just, perhaps, slightly more worried than he had been before.

 

“Can we not argue?” Zhangjing tries between quiet sobs, resulting in another sigh from the younger boy. Yanjun isn’t able to hide the rage in his voice when he asks: “So you can avoid my questions? Pretend that this ever happened?”  

 

The older boy feels entirely exhausted and drained. Part of him understands Yanjun’s worry, but the rest merely want to curl up in comfort. “I already did, though. What else do you want to know…?”

 

Yanjun stares back furiously and Zhangjing’s heart aches. “What happened for you perform so poorly at practice?” 

 

The question unearths a torrent of thoughts Zhangjing had been trying to banish from his mind. As soon as practice began, as soon as he started singing — he knew he had screwed up. Instead of his routine method of immersing himself into the song and lyrics, his mind had only been filled with giddy memories revolving around Yanjun, coupled with the excitement and longing to meet the other after practice.

 

“Is it because of me?” 

 

Immediately, Zhangjing protests, but is cut off by a warning from Yanjun to not twist his words for the sake of protecting his feelings. “I want to know the truth,” Yanjun insists. “You can brush it off now, but I’ll find out in the end and I’ll be more angry then if I’m right. So let’s not waste time.”  His words cause Zhangjing’s heart to tighten. 

 

“Of course it isn’t your fault, silly,” the older boy assures. “I just couldn’t focus. It’s not something you have to worry about. I have to deal with this myself. Even if Mentor Li hadn’t said anything, I knew I did badly,” Zhangjing whispers, as if saying it any louder would pain him more. “It’s really my bad, Yanjun. I lost focus.”

 

The younger boy frowns again at his words. “Because?” 

 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Zhangjing begins with a half-truth, “I’m just unusually distracted this morning.”

 

“By what?” Yanjun is relentless when he wants to be. With Zhangjing’s exhaustion, it is proving to be very effective.

 

“Since you really want to know,” Zhangjing admits defeatedly, “I was thinking about us, alright?”

 

“There you go,” Yanjun replies softly. “Was that so hard to tell me? What were you afraid of?”

 

_ ‘Of you leaving me,’ _ is what Zhangjing thinks but never says, because how could he? When their relationship was never meant to last from the start?

 

“I didn’t want you to think that-”

 

“That it’s my fault?” Yanjun cuts him off again, something the younger boy rarely does, so Zhangjing knows for sure that he is upset, too. “But it is, because I came up with this idea, and it’s way past due.”

 

Zhangjing doesn’t need to ask Yanjun what he means by that. 

 

“Look,” Yanjun runs his hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. “This, our  _ fake  _ relationship, was never meant to last. You need to focus on your performance. We  **both** need to.”

 

The older boy bites his lip upon hearing those words, wondering if Yanjun’s heart ached like his did when he said them. Still, the logical part of Zhangjing agrees. If anything, Yanjun is absolutely right: their plan is way past due.

 

_ They _ are way past due.

 

It all started just so he could experience the bitterness and regret of a breakup, not bask in the exhilarating joy of dating. Zhangjing knew very well it was the latter that had been in his mind all morning. When a plan no longer served its purpose, and in turn made it worse, there was no point to keep at it. 

 

However, if that was all there was to the matter, Zhangjing would have considered letting it play out for a bit more; but with the thought that even Yanjun could be distracted ate at him. They were both here to compete. 

 

To debut. 

 

If this caused them both to perform poorly, neither of them would be able to live with it for the rest for their lives. What would they say to the other trainees who had already been eliminated? To the trainees who were still competing against them? To their parents back at home?

 

“Why don’t we break up?”

 

Yanjun looks entirely serious as the words leave his lips, very much like the first time those words rolled off his tongue. Only this time, Zhangjing isn’t confused to hear them. 

 

Closing his eyes, Zhangjing takes deep breaths — jumping between the decision to agree or disagree; hesitating between new feelings he had not quite understood versus their debut; wondering if Yanjun would be angry if he said no. In the end, Zhangjing chooses to nod reluctantly. “You’re right,” he admits, “our goal is to debut, and nothing else should serve as a distraction right now. Not after three months of exhaustion and stress.”

 

There is no need to further complicate matters, Zhangjing thinks. It was a plan that they both agreed on and should have followed through as they should have from the beginning. Still, Zhangjing apologizes after, earning himself a fierce glare from the other. “Don’t do that,” Yanjun warns. “We both agreed to this. Blaming ourselves won’t do any good, so we should just move on and concentrate on what’s important.”

 

_ ‘Our relationship is important to me, too,’ _ Zhangjing thinks — but again, he finds himself unable to say those words. Who was he to belittle their dreams over a temporary — and now, non-existent — romantic relationship?

 

“We’re still friends, right?” Zhangjing offers a smile, a sincere albeit weak one, this time.

 

“Of course,” Yanjun forces a grin in reply. 

 

* * *

 

Yanjun’s heart and mind are at war, and it does him no good at all.

 

For someone as observant as him, especially as someone who literally analyzes Zhangjing’s every other action — it didn’t take a lot of detective work to put two and two together. If Yanjun were honest with himself, a part of him had already expected things to get tricky when they didn’t go through with the break up on the first night of their false relationship.

 

Who could he blame but himself? 

 

For holding on to the chance to treat the older boy more than a friend without needing excuses?

 

For his selfishness of wanting to keep Zhangjing exclusively by his side with each passing hour and day? 

 

When Linong had mentioned Zhangjing’s condition and asked if they fought — he realized the gravity of his actions and selfishness. They didn’t leave Shanghai to come all the way here, just to indulge in personal desires that took precedence over their survival in the programme. 

 

Initially, he had planned to talk to the older boy calmly about the matter. Yet, seeing the other in Wenjun’s embrace threw alot of his composure out the window. Had it been Chaoze, Yanjun thinks he could still come to be  **_somewhat_ ** calm about it — but Wenjun? Yanjun doesn’t even remember them being that close. With Zhangjing trying to dodge the issue, Yanjun's patience ran thin very quickly.

 

But if anything, they are both mature and reasonable boys — to a point. So, even though it hurt to see Zhangjing cry, he is glad that they managed to come to a mutual agreement. One that he did not like entirely, but believed is for the greater good.  _ Their _ greater good.

 

There is no arguing that it is better to end things sooner than later. To escape whatever feelings he had begun to sink into before he drowned entirely. Yanjun wonders briefly if Zhangjing felt the same: wonders if he is the only one to think so, or if Zhangjing felt a similar degree of growing affection for him in the past few days as well. 

 

Wonders if Zhangjing wanted to push those feelings away to focus instead on more important matters. 

 

However, he doesn’t ask. 

 

Only because he is afraid that knowing would make him retract his decision to break up. For Yanjun, the most important thing right now is for Zhangjing to focus on his performance — and that was what he would help the older boy with. Not indulge in his own wants outside of their careers.

 

He does, however, have a slight consolation: Zhangjing’s reluctance. It is an ambiguous hint that, perhaps, the other didn’t want to agree either. That small thought is enough to fuel Yanjun’s courage. However, courage aided in getting things done. Dealing with the aftermath is something else altogether. 

 

Yanjun doesn’t think he will ever forget the sorrow on the older boy’s face at his request to break up. Nor will he forget the anguish that filled his entire being for saying those words. At least, Yanjun thinks,  they came to an agreement without much fuss. That meant the other understood the reasons behind his decision as well.

 

His decision, now  _ theirs  _ — that led him to feel the bitter weight of ending something that never quite begun. The thought suffocates him, so Yanjun excuses himself abruptly despite knowing that it isn’t for the best. The older boy would be at a loss if he walked out on him now, but Yanjun didn’t want Zhangjing to see him upset.

 

Speechlessly waving goodbye, he moves towards the door, wondering if he can still practice properly after.

 

“Before you go,” Zhangjing whispers, reaching to gently wrap his fingers around Yanjun’s wrist, “there is something I owe you.” Stopped in his tracks, the younger boy waits as Zhangjing walks to face him, watches indifferently as the other reaches to cup his cheeks gently, then close the distance between them to press their lips together.

 

At the sudden kiss, Yanjun’s heart jumps — only because he isn’t expecting it in the least, and not because he doesn’t like it — because God knows how weak his knees are turning with each passing second. Feeling the older boy’s arms wrap around his neck, Yanjun knows that Zhangjing must be on his tiptoes. 

 

It is an adorable image and he almost smiles into the kiss; if only he isn’t reminded that this is their second kiss — and very likely their last. He groans into the kiss, unsure if it is a sound of bitterness or pleasure.

 

Zhangjing doesn’t seem bothered, however, as he continues to pepper Yanjun’s lips with kisses: tenderly at first, until he is nipping desperately. Despite his earlier need to escape, Yanjun leans down to give the older boy easier access to his mouth, his arms finding their way around the other’s shorter form to hold him tightly — indulging in the other’s embrace for one last time. 

 

Holding back his tears, Yanjun whispers the other’s name into their kiss: a hidden plea and the cry of a broken heart. Perhaps Zhangjing understands, as he whispers the younger boy’s name in return: a sound of understanding and a sincere apology.

 

With waves of pleasure, pain, bitterness and desire crashing within him, Yanjun allows himself to drown in the kiss. He doesn’t remember how they end up with Zhangjing between him and the ladder to their beds, or how his teeth are nibbling at the other’s neck right below his ear. All he hears is the blood pumping in his ears, his accelerated heartbeats, and Zhangjing’s beautiful voice calling his name over and over.

 

When Yanjun finally comes to, he sees a bruised mark on the other’s neck. Heat rises to his cheeks as he feels embarrassed and guilty for leaving a love bite on Zhangjing now, of all times. Resting his forehead on Zhangjing’s, he realizes that the older boy’s eyes are closed as he catches his breath. “I’m sorry,” Yanjun murmurs as he presses one final kiss on the other’s lips. 

 

“No,” Zhangjing whispers a breathy reply — and Yanjun thinks it’s the best sound to ever grace his ears. “I’m the one who is sorry.” The younger boy lets himself drown in the other’s eyes as Zhangjing goes on to confess his regrets for having to drag him into such a messy situation for his sake, and hopes that he won’t hate him for it.

 

Chuckling weakly, Yanjun states that there is no way he can ever come to hate the older boy. At his statement, Zhangjing’s fingers find his cheeks. “Thank you,” the older boys says, gazing into his eyes as if he meant the whole world to him — or was Yanjun just thinking too much?

 

“I just wanted you to know that,” Zhangjing’s concludes, his voice filled with sincerity and guilt. “I’m really sorry for putting you through this. Even if you must insist that I have no fault in it — I am sorry. And I appreciate your thoughts of wanting to help me, and I hope I’ve returned the favour well.”

 

_ We’re even now and don’t owe each other anything. _

 

Wondering how it is possible to feel so loved and so unloved at the same time, Yanjun can only look into Zhangjing’s eyes for a few more seconds before he turns away. “This is it, then,” he declares as nonchalantly as he can. “We’re no longer dating.”

 

Squeezing his hand, Zhangjing nods and affirms: “Still friends.”

 

The younger boy can only manage a cold ‘yeah’ before turning abruptly to leave.

 

This time, Zhangjing doesn’t stop him.

 

This time, Yanjun makes it out into the frosty winter afternoon, still jacketless but with warm tears on his cheeks.

 

This time, Zhangjing lets his knees go weak as he slumps onto Yanjun’s bed, as he curls up and cries into the sleeve of his shirt for reasons he can’t quite understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you who have left a comment or kudos: THANK YOU SO SO MUCH ♥  
> Since I have a day job, I mostly stay up to work on this fic, and to be able to read all your feedback really keeps me going!
> 
> As I mentioned earlier, this chapter was supposed to have more — but it got too long for my liking ._. I’ll try my best to post the next chapter next week! 
> 
> As usual, I’m on Twitter [@zhan9jun](https://twitter.com/zhan9jun) translating ZhangJun stuff and screaming (crying, more like) about these two wonderful, beautiful, amazing, lovely, breathtaking pair — so come scream with me :D My DMs are always open!


	7. Chapter 7

Yanjun dreams of a winter that is grey and dreary, of sighs and careful whispers.

 

Zhanjing’s whispers.

 

He turns around frantically in the snow-covered field, trying to find the other through the heavy fog — but there is no sight of Zhangjing. Yanjun isn’t one to give up over impaired vision, so he moves forward despite his feet sinking into the thick snow.

 

It isn’t in vain, as a line of trees soon come into sight.

Immediately, he notices a silhouette between two trees and calls out the other’s name.

 

Zhangjing turns to look at him, waving as Yanjun runs over as quickly as possible.

 

His socks are wet from melted ice and his toes are freezing by the time he reaches Zhangjing, but the mere presence of the other warms him to the bones. Especially when the older boy flashes him one of his signature smiles.

 

“I’m glad you got here in time,” Zhangjing’s voice rings brightly in the bleak landscape.

 

“Why?” Yanjun’s instinct tells him he already knows the answer.

 

“Because I have to go now.”

 

Yanjun doesn’t understand the sudden panic that fills him when the other boy bids him goodbye, resulting in a desperate need to pull the other into an embrace. Zhangjing is warm and melts all his fears away, giving him a temporary home of peace.

 

He doesn’t realize when, but the warmth is soon gone — and Zhangjing is no longer in his arms.

 

Alarmed, Yanjun screams for himself to wake up from the nightmare, only to be greeted by the same view of Zhangjing’s bunk above him. Trying to calm his breaths, he glances at the clock and realizes that he has barely slept for an hour.

 

His thoughts immediately drift to the boy sleeping in the top bunk. Zhangjing had slept earlier than him that night, something that rarely happened. They had always made it a point to hang out before heading to sleep, even if it was just to bid each other goodnight.

 

Yet he had found Zhangjing bundled and deeply asleep by the time he had returned to the dorm the night before. Some part of Yanjun is thankful, because he hasn’t been able to act his usual self since their breakup. Barely a day had passed, but it had already felt like weeks to Yanjun.

 

Yanjun used to imagine that a mutual breakup would be the least painful — when compared to others. Since yesterday, he has come to find out that he is not wrong: with Zhangjing agreeing to the decision, the burden of separation was halved and rested on **both** of them.

 

Still, that single half still hurt.

 

The pain isn’t the kind of pain that came from being abruptly hit, not the kind that stung upon immediate contact and left one reeling in shock; rather, a slow poison that spread to numb one’s entire being, slowly rendering one unable to breathe.

 

After the break up, he had inevitably bumped into Zhangjing a handful of times.

 

The older boy seemed to had regained his composure, talking to Yanjun as if he had not just cried an hour before. As if they did not go through a rollercoaster of emotions, clinging onto each other and locking lips with tear-stained cheeks.

 

Zhangjing talks to him as if all is well.

 

But Yanjun isn’t able to do the same.

 

With their break up, he finds himself at a loss on how to act around the older boy. At first, the younger boy thinks he just needed to calm down, to detach himself from the intense emotions. That time would mend their relationship back to what it was before.

 

However, hours pass and Yanjun’s chest merely tightens as he watches Zhangjing go about his practice and routine as per usual. Upon seeing Ling Chao latch onto Zhangjing for singing tips, Yanjun’s mind spins. While Yanjun constantly battled to suppress and possibly erase his ever-growing feelings for the other, Zhangjing seemed to be composed and _normal_.

 

He knew Zhangjing to be someone who could put up a brave front at the most trying times — but had their relationship really meant nothing to the other?

 

Had they been actors all along? Just playing their roles in a makeshift stage of romance?

 

Did their feelings just dissipate because the curtains had fallen?

 

In all honesty, Yanjun preferred it that way. That the older boy could finally find his peace and focus on the rest of the programme. _The competition_.

 

But Yanjun is reminded that thoughts don’t always translate into intended actions. He finds himself unable to hold long conversations with Zhangjing anymore, despite the other’s hopeful gaze and smiles. He finds himself unable to tease the older boy either, leaving it to others instead. When Zhangjing reaches to touch or lean into him like before, he would hesitate — and never react in response.

 

Eventually, Zhangjing stops doing so.

 

Eventually, they are reduced to being as close as they are with trainees of other companies.

 

By the time evening comes around, Yanjun has given up staying in the same room as Zhangjing. He can’t bear the sight of others teasing the older boy, nor the sound of the other’s laughter.

 

Yanjun hates himself for thinking that way, but he hates one other thought even more: he wonders if he had loved Zhangjing more than the other did, despite their relationship being an act.

 

They had flirted, held hands and they even **_kissed_ ** — could it really have meant nothing? If that is really the case, would it mean that Zhangjing only loved him enough?

 

Just _enough_ , to break up without lingering pain?

 

While he — perhaps intentionally more than not — poured out his feelings for the other with less restraint?

 

Even if it were true, Yanjun cannot find it in himself to blame the other. Their agreement was never one of lasting commitment and that thought always bites hard at Yanjun’s heart.

 

Throughout his life, Yanjun had made sure to not have many regrets. Still holding onto his motto, he decides to let it go. They had pretended to date for the sake of Zhangjing’s performance, so if that went well, all would be good.

 

Yet when Chaoze wakes Yanjun up hours later, telling him to get ready because Zhangjing and Linong have already left for an early practice session — Yanjun thinks that he might be living in the aftermath of the first-ever regret in his life.

 

* * *

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Zhangjing barely registers Linong’s voice as he slumps to the floor, lying down in hopes that his head would stop spinning.

 

When he does finally hear the other’s words, the older boy ponders for a moment. Was Linong asking about him and Yanjun? Or was it just a general question about his well-being?

 

Ever since the ending of their false relationship, the air between Zhangjing and Yanjun had undoubtedly shifted. Despite feeling guilty and somewhat awkward, Zhangjing had no plans to avoid Yanjun.

 

Unfortunately, it seemed like the younger boy felt differently, despite their agreement to stay friends. The intimacy that had blossomed between them since joining Idol Producer withered away in mere hours.

 

Those who paid attention would notice that they conversed less with each other as the day went by, that Yanjun teased the older boy less, that Zhangjing was more hesitant to reach out for the other. If anything, the most noticeable change in their behavior was that Yanjun no longer visited Zhangjing during practice.

 

No one really pays it much heed, however, since everyone is too occupied, too exhausted trying to withstand the pressure of the upcoming performances.

 

Of course, the pair’s roommates both realize the change — but neither had chosen to pry. Neither wanted to be the one to poke at wounds, especially not with the exhaustion that clung to them everyday. Yet to have been woken up by Zhangjing to go for early practice, Linong can’t help but worry for his groupmate.

 

Zhangjing almost never woke up early, much less insist on practicing without breakfast.

 

“I’m just hungry,” Zhangjing replies weakly after a while. “I wonder if the cafeteria is already open.”

 

Linong informs him that they will open in half an hour and suggests that maybe they should return to the dorm to shower before heading to breakfast. A smile appears on Zhangjing’s face, but Linong can tell it isn’t the usual one the older boy wears at the mention of food. In fact, it is the first time he sees such a fragile and forced smile on the other’s face.

 

“Please don’t push yourself too hard,” Linong says.

 

Zhangjing nods in reply, but Linong doesn’t know if the other would really comply.

 

* * *

 

One of the ways to escape addiction is to find a replacement.

 

To actually break out of an addiction, however, required much more finesse, effort, and time — among others. Unfortunately, neither of them had those to spare, especially not with their performance creeping closer.

 

Both Zhangjing and Yanjun decide to fill the emptiness within them by putting in extra hours of practice, to replace their desires with their efforts towards their goals.

 

Zhangjing does his best to channel his sadness into his performance. After all, it was for this purpose that they got themselves into whatever whirlwind of emotions they went through. If he did not put it to good use, he would feel even more apologetic towards Yanjun.

 

As for Yanjun, despite his seeming indifference, he can’t help but still keep an eye on Zhangjing. He notices the other being slightly quieter than usual during recordings, something the older boy brushed off by blaming stress.

 

He notices how Zhangjing would sometimes open his mouth, as if to say something to him, but end up saying nothing at all. He also notices how Zhangjing’s voice seem at the verge of breaking when wishing him and their roommates goodnight. He knows that he is the cause.

 

Sometimes, Yanjun tries to stop. To stop paying attention the older boy — but he always ends up doing so. Naturally, he doesn’t miss the sight of Zhangjing rushing off after a recording, the older boy’s steps haphazard and unsure.

 

Yanjun’s legs move before he realizes that he is chasing after Zhangjing: following the other through the corridors they used to laugh in, up flights of stairs and finally at the door leading to the roof. He stops right before the door, his hand outstretched but unable to turn the knob.

 

Muffled cries are heard from the other side. ‘ _Zhangjing’s cries_ ,’ he thinks, his chest tightening at the sound. He remembers the last times the older boy weeped: when they broke up, and when he performed poorly at practice.

 

Zhangjing seemed to cry a lot when it came to situations involving him.

 

He is abruptly hit with the longing to hear Zhangjing’s laugh. How long had it been since the other’s bright laughter filled his ears?

 

As a strangled wail reaches his ears, Yanjun feels at a loss and is reminded of the first time he found Zhangjing crying. It was a rather similar situation: with the older boy rushing off after an evaluation session at the company, hand over his mouth and his steps uneven.

 

Back then, he had already relinquished his role as leader to Chaoze, but still ran after Zhangjing — out of something more than a sense of responsibility. He found himself standing outside their dorm room then, but despite it being a room he slept in daily, he had felt hesitant to enter. Especially knowing he would be intruding upon a moment when the older boy would be feeling fragile.

 

At that time, he had wondered if he had the right words to comfort Zhangjing, if he could be more caring than intimidating. It had worked out, miraculously. Yanjun doesn’t remember the words he said, but he vividly remembers being tightly embraced by the other for the first time.

 

Since then, he knew Zhangjing to be one to not hold his emotions back — just that he would be mindful of when and where to do so, preferring not to be seen crying if possible. Preferring to be seen as the cheerful ball of energy than to show the more fragile side of himself.

 

After months, Yanjun came to realize that not many other trainees had seen Zhangjing crying. It truly felt like a privilege, to be someone the older boy could confide in at his most insecure moments. With that in mind, he had made sure to comfort the other properly every time he found him crying.

 

Smiling bitterly at the memories, Yanjun withdraws his hand.

 

At least, he had been close to Zhangjing. With their recent events, Yanjun’s confidence wavers. He doesn’t even know if he can say anything even if he did cross to the other side of the door.

 

“I’ll go,” a familiar voice breaks his train of thoughts.

 

It is Chaoze, looking at him with intense worry. “I haven’t asked either of you about what happened, and I won’t now. But, if you’re not going to comfort him, let me.”

 

Unable to speak, Yanjun merely shakes his head, stepping aside to watch the other open the door. As soon as the door swings open, Yanjun catches sight of Zhangjing kneeling on the ground — the sight immediately breaking his heart. His hand reaches out to hold the door ajar after Chaoze passes through, just so he can watch the other lower himself next to Zhangjing.

 

Watch as he strokes the older boy’s back, listen as Zhangjing lets out a broken cry and throw himself into Chaoze’s embrace.

 

He closes the door then, looking up in hopes that the tears in his eyes don’t fall.

 

* * *

 

Chaoze waits as Zhangjing cries. Listening patiently as the other’s voice becomes more strangled and coarse, watching as Zhangjing releases him from the hug to bury his face into his hands again.

 

When Zhangjing is reduced to quiet sobbing, Chaoze reaches to squeeze the other’s shoulder. “Shall we go in? You’ll freeze to death if you stay out here any longer,” he reminds, then corrects himself fiercely, “no, we’ll **both** die out here at this rate.”

 

At Chaoze’s suppressed exasperation, Zhangjing wipes his tears and laughs weakly. “Let’s go in then. Thanks for freezing out here with me.”

 

“Do you feel better?” Chaoze asks, standing up and helping the other to his feet.

 

“Slightly,” Zhangjing says. In Chaoze’s books, that’s good enough.

 

For now.

 

“You better be,” he comments, but not angrily. “I can’t feel my fingers anymore.”

 

This time, Zhangjing does actually laugh, much to Chaoze’s relief.

 

When they are enveloped in the warmth indoors, Chaoze asks Zhangjing if he would like to talk about whatever is bothering him. “I know it’s normal for us to break down close to the performances, but I have a feeling you’re carrying a burden far heavier than that,” he says. “You’d tell me if anything else is bothering you, right?”

 

The younger boy watches as Zhangjing fidgets under his gaze, watches the hesitation come and go in the other’s eyes. “I just got caught up in the song, that’s all.”

 

Chaoze sighs and tries not to roll his eyes. It was so easy for him to read Zhangjing, so easy for him to tell when Zhangjing is lying. Still, he respects the older boy enough to not call him out bluntly — but still feels the need to let Zhangjing know he is there to listen.

 

“You know I’m not going to judge you no matter what you tell me, right?” Chaoze assures.

Zhangjing’s cheeks turn red, knowing that he has been found out.

 

“I broke up with Yanjun.”

 

Coaxing Zhangjing to begin is always the easy part. But the older boy would always cease to continue after, so Chaoze has to prompt him. “Wasn’t that the plan from the start?”

 

“I feel bad,” the older boy confesses quietly after some time. “I agreed to it without too much thought, but looking back, I think I’ve caused him a lot of unnecessary trouble…”

 

“Did he say you caused him unnecessary trouble?”

 

“No... but it’s enough that I got to horribly distracted and performed so badly in front of Mentor Li. And he looked really upset when we broke up too…”

 

Shaking his head, Chaoze sighs. ‘ _Of course he would be upset_ ,’ the younger boy thinks, but does not think it is the time to say so.

 

“Don’t do that,” Zhangjing pleads, reaching to tug on Chaoze’s sleeve. “The last thing I need now is for you to give up on me too…”

 

“I’m not giving up on you,” the other boy insists, “but I do really want to help you, if possible. Is there anything you’d like me to do?”

 

“Turn back time so I wouldn’t have agreed to date Yanjun?”

 

“Something I can **actually** do?”

 

There is nothing, so Zhangjing keeps quiet. “Do you think Yanjun hates me? He’s not been talking to me as much ever since the breakup. Sometimes I think he even hates being around me…”

 

“I haven’t talked to Yanjun about this,” Chaoze states, “but if anything, the Lin Yanjun I know will never hate you. Not even if you step on his white shoes, not even if you eat all his bread, not even when you disagree and bicker with him on every little thing, not even when you engage him in your little fistfights — do you understand what I’m saying?”

 

Zhangjing does, but Yanjun’s indifference towards him since their break up doesn’t help in his faith.

 

“I’d like you to resolve this with Yanjun, but I’m also not going to force you to talk to Yanjun.” Chaoze says when Zhangjing doesn’t reply. “Just promise me that you won’t let this hinder your performance, alright?”

 

“Of course not,” Zhangjing promises. That much, he was sure he could do.

 

As Chaoze leads him back to the dorm, Zhangjing ponders his choices of talking to Yanjun now or later.

 

In the end, he slinks away from the thought of confronting Yanjun — and chooses the latter. He could always try after the performance.

 

* * *

 

When Yanjun bumps into Zhangjing after, the words ‘are you alright’ almost leave his lips, but are never voiced. Instead, he gives the older boy a weak but hopeful smile.

 

The subtle gesture seems to mean much more to the other than Yanjun imagined, because Zhangjing immediately responds with a relieved smile. The other’s lips then part, as if wanting to say something, but just like him — no words are spoken in the end.

 

Instead, they both nod formally and awkwardly at each other before moving their separate ways.

 

While Zhangjing is glad that Yanjun isn’t being as cold to him anymore, Yanjun is just relieved that the other isn’t crying any longer.

 

They pass the next few days in a similar pattern, as familiar strangers. Greeting each other but never quite falling into conversation, encouraging each other but never hanging out to monitor each other’s practice.

 

‘Just one more day,’ Zhangjing thinks as they are seated at the cafeteria over dinner one night. One more day till they perform and perhaps after, he can finally talk to Yanjun properly. He watches the younger boy from across the table.

 

As of late, Yanjun had been more quiet, speaking less without Zhangjing to pull him into random conversations. Even when he does join in the conversations, his eye never quite meets Zhangjing like before.

 

The older boy isn’t greedy, so he tries to be content with the fact that they are both seated at the same table, almost in the same conversation. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss how Yanjun would always tease him, how the younger boy would always find a way to spin a discussion back towards him.

 

Zhangjing missed, more than anything, their little walks when they could talk about anything or nothing at all. When he would feel protected from almost everything just because Lin Yanjun was holding his hand.

 

But he doesn’t let it distract him for their upcoming performance.

 

Else, everything would have been for naught.

 

* * *

 

Yanjun looks very cool performing Zero.

 

In his mind, Zhangjing gives endless compliments for the other as he watches from the waiting room.

 

The anxiety in his heart ebbs away with each passing second of the performance, and when they are done and posing — Zhangjing is beyond relieved that Yanjun’s stage had gone impeccably well.

 

His is coming up soon, so he moves with his group mates to the standby area near the stage. As soon as he steps out of the waiting room, a new wave of anxiety hits Zhangjing.

 

Even though they aren’t going to be evaluated or eliminated this time, the performance would still undoubtedly affect their popularity and votes. Zhangjing feels extra unnerved because of that, and also because he hasn’t properly spoken to Yanjun in the past few hours.

 

Usually, they would exchange words of encouragement, or just silly comments to ease each other’s frazzled nerves. Today, he had nothing to soothe him, nothing to assure him, nothing to boost his confidence.

 

“You Zhangjing!” A familiar voice breaks him out of his thoughts and Zhangjing turns slightly to see Zhenting pointing at him. “What’s up with you? You looked fine during rehearsal yesterday but you look like a zombie now, right when we’re about to perform?”

 

Zhangjing smiles in embarrassment as Zhenting’s arm finds it way around his shoulders, pulling him close. He doesn’t tell the younger boy that it is because he could barely sleep the night before, his thoughts constantly drifting towards the person who slept in the bunk bed below his.

 

“You’ve practiced so hard for this,” Zhenting continues, his voice softer now, “I won’t let you mess it up!” The Yehua boy’s voice then drops to almost a whisper: “I heard you even cried? You’re that immersed into the song? I won’t let a zombie Zhangjing appear on that stage.”

 

With that, Zhenting drowns Zhangjing in a tight hug, telling him that he will be fine and to enjoy the stage. Taking a deep breath, Zhangjing relishes in the physical and verbal comfort, the tenseness leaving his body as Zhenting stroked his back.

 

“Wait,” Zhenting says suddenly, looking down at Zhangjing, “you’re really warm, are you-”

 

Zhangjing shushes and glares at him before he can continue. The taller boy glares in return. “You’re running a fever,” he whispers furiously.

 

“It’s not the first time someone has performed ill,” Zhangjing reminds, keeping a warning look on Zhenting. The last thing he wanted was to be unable to perform.

 

The shuffling of footsteps past them catches Zhangjing’s attention, so he peers over Zhenting’s shoulder.

 

His gaze immediately falls on Yanjun.

 

Zhangjing doesn’t know if he imagines it: that the younger boy’s eyes widen in surprise only to narrow into anger, as a frown appeared on the other’s handsome face. It only lasts the briefest of moments before someone drags Yanjun away, pulling him into an excited post-performance discussion. It is then that Zhenting releases Zhangjing, grabs his hand a little too tightly and leading him to enter the standby area.

 

Mentor Li is already there, so Zhangjing bites his lip and tells himself that he can wait just a while longer to resolve all the uneven tides crashing about in his mind.

 

And heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work's been keeping me busy (and I also fell sick - too much staying up to lurk for ZhangJun content *cough*) so this update is posted slightly later than I would've liked it to be! As always, I'd like to thank [sunspritecyj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspritecyj) for beta-reading this chapter for me! Without her, these updates would be delayed even more ._.
> 
> Will try to update the next chapter before June is over :)
> 
> I'm also on [Twitter @zhan9jun](https://twitter.com/zhan9jun) screaming and translating about this wonderful pair when I'm not writing or working (or eating or sleeping), so you can catch me there in case I have yet to update after a while!


	8. Chapter 8

The spot lights are blinding as usual.

 

So much that Zhangjing can barely see the audience as the first key rings on the piano. 

 

However, that does not matter now. His only desire is to deliver a perfect stage.

 

_ Over the phone, we arrange to meet at a place we’ve met at before.  _

 

Despite his resolve, images of Yanjun trickle into his mind.

 

Of the times they had been nearly inseparable, always hanging out together when they weren’t forced to practice separately. 

 

_ To sing and eat with you, I’ll pay the bills to maintain good habits. _

 

Of the times they had laughed and dissed each other teasingly over meals, of the times they would visit each other’s practice rooms, only to sneak out when the mentors dropped by for unexpected visits.

 

_ I’ve received my punishment. _

 

Of how that all changed overnight.

 

Of how he tried to pretend as if everything was fine, that unfamiliar and new feelings for Yanjun did not sprout in the few days they had pretended to be dating.

 

_ I wanted to comfort you but I didn’t know if I was allowed to. _

 

He remembers Yanjun’s tone and expression as the other boy mentioned to break up. In fact, he doesn’t think he will ever come to forget it.

 

The anguish masked behind Yanjun’s usual indifference that he could see through all too well. The anger that mixed in with the agony — anger that he did not know was directed at him, at Yanjun, at both of them, or at everything.

 

_ Punishment. _

 

Ignorance is bliss, but Zhangjing couldn’t ignore the many signs he picked up. Not the ones from Yanjun, nor the ones that resounded loudly in his heart.

 

However, acknowledging them meant sinking himself into a sea of new worries.

 

Did Yanjun  _ actually  _ like him? It could have really been an act the younger boy put up, just so he could experience the emotions needed for this performance. Perhaps Yanjun was just upset for being part of the plan after all?

 

There was a possibility, no matter how slim, that the younger boy’s words and actions contained a grain of truth and sincerity. Yet, even if that were true — even if Yanjun did feel as strongly for him as he did for the other, would the younger boy actually date him? Could they even date? 

 

What about their debut?

 

Was he even in a place to be thinking about a relationship when every little thing they did in Idol Producer, in their performances, affected their chances of being in the Top Nine?

 

What if they don’t debut? 

 

_ I’m not used to not smoking, what do I do without you? _

 

Even though he had tried, Zhangjing doesn’t find an answer.

 

Instead, sleep eluded him and exhaustion overtook him. Along with the pressure from the competition, his worries manifest into the first signs of illness: fever.

 

He hides it well, worried that he wouldn’t be able to stand on stage if anyone found out.

 

The ache tearing at his mind and muscles aren’t too bad, he thinks. He could bear that much for the sake of performing. 

 

The worst part was Yanjun wasn’t there to comfort or accompany him through it.

 

_ It took me three years and one week to learn how to be patient. _

 

So, he had done the only thing he could: put on a mask of normalcy and push forward.

 

_ I also didn’t want to.  _

 

That did not mean it was easy.

 

* * *

 

Cheers fill his ears as Zhang PD cues them to say their ending notes and farewells. Zhangjing doesn’t quite remember the words that roll off his tongue, only that he is met with enthusiastic screams from the audience.

 

He smiles at the sound of it, bowing in appreciation. At the movement, he feels a hot pain on his back, but doesn’t let his smile falter.

 

When his group mates move to leave the stage, he follows suit, feeling relieved. 

 

Feeling lighter.

 

A little too light, as he no longer feels the ground under the feet.

 

The last thing Zhangjing registers is a frantic yell, and how much he misses Yanjun.

 

* * *

 

For the second time that week, all Yanjun hears is the thumping of his own heart and ragged breaths as he sprints through narrow corridors. And still, those sounds aren’t enough to drown out Dinghao’s panicked voice.

 

Yanjun remembers snapping out of his thoughts when his labelmate entered the waiting room, calling his name. Dinghao had grabbed his arm, leaning down to whisper words that were too ambiguous to cause alarm on their own. But Yanjun’s heart still stops for a beat upon Dinghao’s frantic tone and the one name that could stir a thousand emotions within him:  _ “It’s Zhangjing.” _

 

In all honesty, Yanjun has no idea about what happened. Still, he follows Dinghao persistently and soon hears a commotion before him. Following a crowd into a brightly lit room, Yanjun realizes that Zhenting is speaking rapidly in suppressed panic as he instructs Linong to place something,  _ someone _ , gently onto the couch.

 

It is only then that Yanjun recognizes the unconscious form in Linong’s arms. 

Zhangjing is too pale, his entire being fragile and seemingly smaller as Linong carries him princess style. The vocalist’s usual rosy lips are dull, and the warm glow that surrounded the other boy is no longer present. 

 

Words fail him, so he watches with bated breath as Linong bends to lay Zhangjing on the couch. The older boy’s arm hangs limply off the couch and Yanjun thinks that, if Zhangjing was merely other was merely sleeping, he would have likened the other to Snow White, or perhaps Sleeping Beauty — because Zhangjing looks serenely beautiful.

 

However, the tension in the room tells him that Zhangjing is anything but sleeping.

 

Yanjun’s chest tightens when Zhenting moves to touch Zhangjing’s forehead and neck, to fuss over the older boy and ask if the staff have called for some form of medical assistance. He watches with clenched fists as Linong calls Zhangjing’s name, to ask if he can hear him, to ask if he is alright.

 

“What happened,” Yanjun finally manages to ask no one in particular. His composure surprises even himself.

 

“Oh, Yanjun!” Linong finally notices him. “You’re here!”

 

“Our little cutie is running a fever,” Zhenting answers, his eyes on Zhangjing instead of Yanjun.

 

Yanjun wants to correct the other, that Zhangjing is  _ his _ little cutie, not  _ theirs _ — but there was no point to do so now. So he continues to watch and listen.

 

To hear the staff informing them that an ambulance has arrived and that they will be bringing Zhangjing in for a checkup. At the words, Linong carries Zhangjing again — the older boy looking at peace despite the chaos around him. Zhenting guides Linong out the door and Yanjun trails behind, still watching. Still listening.

 

Watching as Zhangjing is carried onto the ambulance. Listening to the noise that is void of Zhangjing’s usual bright laughs and mischievous remarks.

 

It is only when the ambulance’s doors close and pulls out of the driveway that thoughts begin to trickle back into Yanjun’s blank mind.

 

Belatedly, he thinks that maybe he should have gotten onto the ambulance too.

 

That maybe he should have gone so he could hold on to Zhangjing’s hand to give some form of comfort to the older boy when he woke up.

 

To give some form of comfort to himself.

 

* * *

 

As someone who claims to be observant, Yanjun had not noticed Zhangjing’s condition at all. So he spends the evening mulling over the incident. He also spends it silently berating himself for not reaching out to the older boy, and for pushing him away instead.

 

Chaoze and Dinghao wait with him for news of Zhangjing. Chaoze is especially angry for not being able to be there due to his performance, while Dinghao nags him, saying that Zhangjing would have wanted him to perform instead of ditching it to go to the hospital. “Zhenting and Linong are with him, anyway,” Dinghao adds. “There is no need to worry.”

 

Dinghao is right, there is nothing to worry over, but Yanjun still feels a dull ache in his heart.

 

When he is done with dinner — if dinner meant poking at his food and barely finishing half of it — Yanjun retreats to the dorm. With the performances over and their next recording slated tomorrow, there is nothing to do but to unwind.

 

Yet it was the only thing Yanjun felt impossible to achieve given the current situation.

 

Lying on his bed and looking at the bottom of Zhangjing’s bunk, his thoughts often and willingly drift back to the boy who usually slept above him. 

 

How was Zhangjing doing? 

 

Was it only a fever like Zhenting said?

 

Would he return soon? In time to prepare for the finals?

 

Moreover, if Zhangjing did return tonight, would he be able to talk to him? What would he say? What  **should** he say?

 

He doesn’t find an answer by the time Dinghao knocks on their room excitedly to announce that Zhangjing has returned. Chaoze jumps off his bed and heads out the room immediate, but Yanjun finds himself still on his bed with doubts and worries.

 

“You’re not coming along?” Dinghao asked, looking surprised.

 

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Yanjun says.

 

* * *

 

He should have asked Dinghao for more information on  _ where _ they would be, because Yanjun goes to the entrance of the dorms, but there is not a shadow in sight. He then returns to the room, in case that is where they have went — but there is no one there either.

 

It is then that he hears chatter from a room that is supposedly already empty. Since the eliminations, they had moved to the last few rooms that were larger — the others left only to hold memories and reminders of those who had left them. 

 

The door is ajar, so Yanjun takes a peek from the entrance.

 

He can hear Zhangjing’s voice, albeit a softer and weaker version of his usually bright and loud one, but he cannot see the older boy. Some other trainees are huddled around the bed, so Yanjun presumes that is where Zhangjing is.

 

To be able to hear the other but not see him, a dull ache spreads across Yanjun’s chest. He stays rooted by the door, listening to the chatter from within. He recognizes Zhenting’s voice, narrating their trip from the recording studio to the hospital, to Zhangjing’s examination and his diagnosis of fatigue and flu. Then there is Chaoze, gently lecturing Zhangjing on overworking himself and not taking care of his body at such a critical time; and Linong, who defends Zhangjing, voicing that he agrees with the older boy’s priority, that he can still recover now.

 

They burst into a small debate, although not a heated one — and Dinghao suddenly wonders out loud about Yanjun’s whereabouts. Chaoze complains about Yanjun being slow. But if Yanjun was watching then — he would have seen the brief look of disappointment on Zhangjing’s face.

 

“He’s probably tired,” the older boy says still, “there’s no need to trouble him to come over.” The others fall silent at his words, even Zhangjing himself is surprised. 

 

“Are you sure?” Linong asks in slight disbelief. “I could go look for him now. Isn’t he your closest friend?”

 

Zhangjing lips curl into a teasing smile. “If you say that in front of Lin Chaoze, he’s going to feel hurt.”

 

Chaoze rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’ve long been hurt, don’t use me as an excuse. I’ll go look for Yanjun now.” But before Chaoze can leave, Zhangjing reaches out to hold his sleeve, offering a wistful smile and saying: “It is because we’re close that I know he has his own reasons to not come by right now. It’s no big deal.”

 

Dinghao lets out an exaggerated exclamation at Zhangjing’s words, slowly clapping and telling the older boy that he is an understanding friend. “Are you sure you don’t miss him?” He teases after, earning himself a weak glare.

 

“I miss the peace and quiet in the hospital!” Zhangjing retorts. “Anyway, you all should be leaving so you won’t catch my flu. Isn’t that the whole point of me staying in a separate room?”

 

Sighing, Chaoze bids Zhangjing good night and begins ushering the rest out of the room. Only because he is so used to Zhangjing’s skills of diverting topics, to hide his own feelings from others. 

 

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Yanjun leaves immediately. He does not quite understand why until he is far away from the group’s chatter.

 

Sure, he eavesdropped, but it was not guilt that filled his heart; but a feeling that wavered between the line of happiness and sorrow.

 

_ ‘There’s no need to trouble him to come over.’ _

 

Zhangjing’s words resound in his mind.

 

Did the older boy say that because he really thought Yanjun was tired?

 

Did he really think that he, Lin Yanjun, would not go see him even if he were beyond the brink of exhaustion?

 

Or did he say it because  _ he _ did not want to see Yanjun?

 

And as all the questions that have been swimming in Yanjun’s head in the past few days, there is no answer.

 

Yanjun merely finds himself out in the cold night air — missing a certain warmth between his fingers, beside him, around him and within him.

 

 

* * *

 

When Yanjun returns to the dorm, Linong begins an interrogation on his whereabouts that only yields no answer. Yanjun catches sight of Chaoze’s gaze, one that the other boy always wore when he was about to lecture the others for misbehaving — but Chaoze doesn’t say anything.

 

Except to inform him of Zhangjing’s separate sleeping arrangement to avoid spreading his flu.

 

Yanjun nods in understanding and crawls under his covers, stating that he is tired and bidding them goodnight.

 

He does not fall asleep.

 

Not in the next minute, not the next hour, nor the hour after. 

 

* * *

 

Alone in the unfamiliar room, Zhangjing is reminded of how he is a person with conflicting interests. Ever since he was a child, he had needed to sleep in pitch black darkness.

 

Without even a sliver of light.

 

However, since moving from Malaysia and sharing rooms with others, he had learnt to compromise. Still, nothing quite beat the comfort a dark room provided to his sleeping needs.

 

Yet, having grown accustomed to having others sleeping in the same room — Zhangjing soon grew afraid of the same darkness. It did not help that Yanjun used to tell him horror stories every other week when they were trainees. 

 

Lying on the unfamiliar bed, Zhangjing wonders if he should turn the lights on. The ache in his body wins over, however, so he continues to lie in the shadows. The medicine he had taken were supposed to make him drowsy, but he finds sleep eluding him.

 

Instead of shutting down, his mind is racing with thoughts that revolve around a certain rapper. 

 

He wonders if Yanjun is avoiding him because of what happened between them, and feels guilty for letting things become this awkward. Zhangjing misses the times when they were inseparable, when he could look around to find that one presence that always calmed him no matter what.

 

He misses the times when he just felt happy to have Yanjun as a friend. A fellow trainee, a roommate, a partner-in-crime — if laughing at unfunny jokes and sneaking out of the dorm were crimes.

 

Then Zhangjing feels guilty for missing those moments, because he had obviously thought of Yanjun as more than a friend now, even if briefly. Even if he is not entirely sure of the extent of those thoughts and feelings.

 

It would be a lie to say he did not enjoy the increased skinship between himself and the younger boy; a lie to say that he did not secretly love how Yanjun teased him at any given chance — because that meant that the other’s attention is always on him; a lie to say that he did not entirely give himself into the kisses they had shared.

 

However, the paths that lay ahead scared him.

 

The only reason Zhangjing did not know the extent of his feelings is because he did not want to, because doing so would mean the possibility of going somewhere he could never turn back.

 

The possibility of fighting an impossible battle, of accept a sinking defeat in the end.

 

With that, he had chosen to leave his questions unanswered. 

 

With that, he had led Yanjun on.

 

With that, he had hurt the other.

 

With that, he had let himself drift between the waves of uncertainty and the dangerous undercurrent of pursuing selfish desires.

 

A sudden knock on his door startles him so much that Zhangjing lets out a scream. A familiar and apologetic voice calls his name, and the door opens to reveal a tall silhouette. Zhangjing watches as the person fumbles to look for the light switch, finally finding it and flipping it on to reveal his visitor’s identity.

 

“Wenjun?”

 

* * *

 

It is ironic that the same setting of a frosty winter night could give off two entirely different feelings. The first being a melting warmth that emanated from one’s bones if that night was spent beside a certain someone; the second being what Yanjun felt throughout his entire being right now.

 

A chilling dread that crept silently but surely from his heart to the ends of his limbs, as he watches Wenjun enter Zhangjing’s room.

 

Again, Yanjun realizes that he is one step too late.

 

And again, he wonders about Zhangjing’s relationship with the Yehua trainee. 

 

And most unfortunately again, Yanjun wonders about his feelings for Zhangjing and if they are reciprocated in the slightest.

 

The wind whistles in his ear as a chill runs up his spine — he realizes that he has left the room without his jacket. Again.

 

It seemed to happen a lot whenever it came to matters related to Zhangjing. “At this rate, I might as well just become a snowman,” Yanjun whispers to himself.

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for dropping by, Wenjun,” Zhangjing waves as the other moves to stand up from sitting at the side of his bed, “I’m touched.”

 

Wenjun flashes Zhangjing a bright smile before reaching over to pat his head. “Get well soon.”

 

The older boy watches as the other leaves, closing the door and leaving him in darkness yet again. At least, he feels less afraid now, feeling warm from Wenjun’s unexpected visit. Perhaps it is the relief, or perhaps his medication effects are finally kicking in, Zhangjing finally closes his eyes and allows sleep to take him.

 

He doesn’t know how long he sleeps, but at one point, he blinks awake — something that happened frequently whenever he slept after eating medicine. Unable to see in the darkness, Zhangjing blinks once, twice, thrice as an uncanny feeling creeped upon him.

 

When his eyes finally adjust to the dimness, Zhangjing screams at the figure seated at the side of his bed, peering over him.

 

A startled voice is heard in response, a voice he knows too well. Yanjun apologizes profusely, explaining that he did not know he was awake, insisting that he never meant to scare him.

 

“You’re so mean!” Zhangjing can’t help but reach to punch the other’s shoulder, “I almost died of a heart attack!” With his heart beating rapidly, with his shock still buzzing through him, Zhangjing lets his fist repeated, but lightly, fall against Yanjun’s shoulders — until the other’s hands envelope his fists and holds them securely over his chest.

 

“Zhangjing,” Yanjun whispers, “I’m sorry.”

 

The older boy is not sure what Yanjun is apologizing for. For visiting him unannounced? For scaring him unintentionally? For… other matters?

 

The questions in his mind are aplenty, but he is tired, his body wrecked with the ache of fever as his adrenaline seeps away, so he slumps towards Yanjun, resting his forehead at the crook of Yanjun’s neck — and cries.

 

“What’s wrong?” Yanjun asks after a while, panic evident in his voice despite his delayed question.

 

Zhangjing shakes his head, feeling Yanjun’s grip on his hands loosen.

 

_ I miss you. _

 

Words that plagues his mind every other minute, but had no way of leaving his lips.

 

_ I miss you so badly, I’m so glad to see you even though you scared the living daylights out of me, Lin Yanjun! _

 

The younger boy lets him cry, his large hand stroking Zhangjing’s back as he did so. Neither say a word when Zhangjing’s cries turn into soft sobs, neither make a move to break their embrace when Zhangjing is no longer crying.

 

Zhangjing lets himself feel the beating of Yanjun’s heart, as Yanjun allows his hand to continue its repeated path over the other’s back. It feels so comfortable, so natural, that Zhangjing can’t help but smile bitterly — knowing that there are unresolved layers still.

 

As he shifts back and wipes his tears, Zhangjing feels Yanjun’s weight disappear from the bed. “Wait, don’t lea-”

 

As the lamp flickers on, Zhangjing’s arm moves to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of light. When the sparks in his vision fade, he is greeted by the sight of a smirking Yanjun. Zhangjing purses his lips and crosses his arms, asking the other what is so amusing.

 

The smirk melts away into a soft and somewhat fragile smile, complete with dimples.

 

“I’m just glad you want me to stay.” 

 

A wistful smile is offered in reply before silence envelopes them again. Rooted at his spot, Yanjun takes a deep breath. It was now, or God-knows-when.

 

“Can we talk?” He starts. The decision came to be not because Yanjun is the braver of the two, but because he knows Zhangjing to be an expert at bottling things up.

 

Zhangjing’s lips press into a thin line as he ponders from the bed, finally nodding and shifting to let Yanjun join him on the bed. The younger boy obliges, suppressing a hopeful smile given what he is about to discuss. 

 

Still, it had felt like forever since he could sit by Zhangjing’s side without some sort of awkward tension, so he wears a smile as he takes his seat. Turning his body to face the older boy, Yanjun prepares the thoughts he had briefly rehearsed before embarking on his midnight visit.

 

Lin Yanjun had never been one to be afraid of many things, but at the sight of Zhangjing’s expectant face before him, his courage diminishes and his voice suddenly gone. He no longer remembers the opening to his prepared speech.

 

“You looked really cool on stage today.”

 

In the end, it is Zhangjing who speaks first. 

 

“I didn’t think anyone could look so cool wearing pink.”

 

Yanjun wants to thank the other, but all he manages is an appreciative smile.

 

“Actually, you shouldn’t be here too long,” worry seeps into Zhangjing’s voice. “You might catch my flu.”

 

“Real men aren’t scared of flu,” Yanjun frowns, not planning to leave anytime soon.

 

“So you’re saying I’m not a real man?”

 

“I didn’t say that. You’re a workaholic who exhausted himself for a performance.”

 

“It was a great performance, though.”

 

“It is,” Yanjun agrees, unable to resist smiling when he sees the proud satisfaction on Zhangjing’s face. “I teared up.”

 

“Don’t flatter me,” is Zhangjing’s reply, but he glows at the compliment. “Even if you don’t, I’d still forgive you for not visiting me earlier.”

 

“I did.”

 

Zhangjing raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

 

“I was here when they fussed over you, when you said _ I didn’t have to come _ ,” Yanjun unintentionally stresses the last few words. “I would also have come earlier, but Wenjun beat me to it.”

 

Surprise crosses Zhangjing’s face, his mouth opening only to close as his pale cheeks flushed - making him seem less sickly. Just slightly less.

 

“So, are you going to complain about my late visit despite what you said?” There is a tiny spark of annoyance in Yanjun’s complaint, so Zhangjing lowers his gaze. Shaking his head, he reminded of why Yanjun is known to be cold, fierce, and intimidating.

 

An overlord.

 

But if anything, Zhangjing is acknowledged as the one person who excels at coaxing Yanjun’s temper away. He reaches to lightly touch Yanjung’s fingers. 

 

Then, using the particular tone of his that manages to soften everyone’s hearts, one that Yanjun once commented is innocent yet flirty, he says: “I have no complaints regarding you, Lin Yanjun. Let’s not argue about this, alright? You haven’t talked to me properly in the past few days, I don’t want that to happen again.”

 

“Do you know why?” Yanjun’s fingers move to trap Zhangjing’s between them.

 

Zhangjing hesitates, peering into Yanjun’s eyes for a sign of what the other could be feeling under his mask of seriousness. He doesn’t find an answer there, and is unable to find an answer to the question either.

 

An uncomfortable silence is left in the wake of Yanjun’s question, and Zhangjing lets it draw out until he can stand it no longer.

 

“Is it because you regret dating me?”

 

Yanjun speaks at the same moment he does, their voice overlapping — causing Zhangjing’s eyes to widen at the younger boy’s words.

 

Could he have misheard?

 

_ “It’s because I like you.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to post something last week but I just barely recovered from a week of fever/flu!  
> Thank you, beta-reading fairy [sunspritecyj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspritecyj/pseuds/sunspritecyj) for your expertise ♥
> 
> I'm handling a stressful workload this week (and for the next two months actually...) so do bear with my slower updates! I'll post on [my Twitter](https://twitter.com/zhan9jun) as well when new chapters are up :)
> 
> Also, this fic was supposed to have less chapters, but I've rambled so much! Just want to say that it will be ending soon, and I'm still deciding between a bonus epilogue to this - or posting it entirely as a separate work. Am also drafting a highschool AU since a lot of you voted so on my Twitter poll!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a must to thank my beta-reading fairy, Belle ♥

“I like you, You Zhangjing.”

 

Yanjun repeats himself — his _confession_ , silently cursing fate for its cruel joke.

 

Did Zhangjing have to speak at the exact same time when he finally mustered up the courage to tell the other about his feelings?

 

Although Yanjun had imagined a hundred different scenarios on how his confession would go, this wasn’t one of them. If that was not enough to catch him off guard, the flicker of emotions on Zhangjing’s face does.

 

The initial surprise on the older boy’s face melts away into a look of confusion and then realization, later transforming into joy that is quickly followed by sorrow — ending at an apologetic hesitance.

 

“Yanjun, I-”

 

Still, Yanjun had come prepared.

 

Prepared with a plan to end each and every possible scenario with. Releasing Zhangjing’s hands, he lifts a finger to the older boy’s lips and shakes his head.

 

“Don’t say it.”

 

Zhangjing’s eyebrows knit together, his fingers reaching to remove Yanjun’s from his lips. “How would you know what I’m about to-”

 

Returning his fingers to the older boy’s lips, Yanjun repeats himself. “Unless you loathe me with your entire being, or want me to pretend these feelings I have for you never existed, you don’t have to reply,” the younger boy stresses.

 

“Knowing you, you’d tell me a hundred things, with none of them being the one I want to hear.” Upon seeing the look of surprised admiration on Zhangjing’s face, Yanjun knows that he had guessed right. “I just wanted to tell you,” Yanjun says, “because I wanted you to know.”

 

“But you don’t want to hear what I have to say…?”

 

“It’s not that. But I know that you’re going to tell me we need to focus on the competition first, aren’t you?”

 

Zhangjing bites his lips and Yanjun loses his focus for a moment.

 

“I’m sorry for selfishly confessing to you,” Yanjun says, “I agree that we need to focus on the competition too, that there are too many undecided factors for me to say what I just did — but I really _needed_ you to know.”

 

“As expected of you, Lin Yanjun,” Zhangjing tilts his chin up slightly, teasing the younger boy. “You’d say whatever you want to say first then apologize after.”

 

“You know me too well,” Yanjun lifts his hands in defeat, his dimples appearing.

 

“...and you know me well, too,” Zhangjing affirms without the other asking. “Part of me wants to reply, to tell you about how badly timed your confession is, but you’re right — one of the things I would have said is that the competition comes first. You took the words right out of my mouth.”

 

“I guess I should play my role as the older of us both, and be less selfish,” Zhangjing sighs before continuing, “I won’t say any more about this matter since you don’t want me to, then.”

 

Yanjun’s lips press into a thin line as he nods, because he had been reluctant to get to this decision as well. “I didn’t mean that we should never talk about this ever, just not now…”

 

As Zhangjing’s feverish fingers find his once again, Yanjun feels like a lost child who has finally stumbled on upon way home. Relieved.

 

And hopeful.

 

“I understand,” Zhangjing squeezes his hand softly, “but let me say just one thing?” Yanjun cannot bring himself to meet the other’s eyes, but he nods anyway. He hears Zhangjing giggle, the other bending down to appear in Yanjun’s downwards gaze.

 

“Lin Yanjun, I’ve heard your words, your feelings — and I will keep them well in my heart.”

Like many times before, Zhangjing manages to make Yanjun feels like a lost child who has returned home with simple words. Warm.

 

And understood.

 

“Thank you,” Yanjun whispers — hoping the other would know how much meaning those two words held.

 

“You’re welcome,” Zhangjing smiles and Yanjun feels himself melting, unable to resist smiling in return. “You should head back and get some rest now, though,” the older boy suggests. “I don’t want you blaming me if you end up falling sick.”

 

“Real men don’t fall sick,” is Yanjun’s reply. Zhangjing rolls his eyes and withdraws his hands with a click of the tongue.

 

“So you’re saying I’m not a real man?”

 

“You’re a man who chose to overexert himself for his dreams.”

 

“Leave the room,” Zhangjing whines. Perhaps it is his exhaustion, or perhaps it is the fact that they are finally talking again — Yanjun can’t help but want to spoil the other boy, to lavish him with all the care and affection he can muster.

 

“I will, if you grant me one last wish, O Benevolent One,” Yanjun’s fingers intertwined as if he is about to pray.

 

“Ask,” Zhangjing crosses his arms. “And perhaps, maybe, somehow, by a slight chance, you may receive.”

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

After so many months of friendship and something more, Zhangjing still manages to be caught off guard by the younger boy’s words. Abrupt words, but not impulsive, he thinks.

 

Lin Yanjun is not one to make decisions on a whim to regret them later. At least, it was highly uncommon.

 

“Are you really asking that?” Zhangjing asks in disbelief.

 

“Why?” Yanjun’s eyes narrow, his gaze suddenly mixed with a hint of mischief and desire. “Am I a bad kisser? Did you not enjoy our previous kisses?”

 

Shaking his head in hopes of dispelling the heat on his cheeks, Zhangjing replies saying that he enjoys many things. Yanjun scoffs at the other’s feeble attempt of changing the topic, continuing to smolder the other with his gaze — feeling a wicked satisfaction as the blush from Zhangjing’s cheeks creeps all the way to the tip of his ears.

 

“I’m glad to be a part of the things you enjoy, then.” He coaxes, a finger reaching to trace along the older boy’s jaw. “So won’t you indulge me once more?”

 

Zhangjing inhales sharply before whispering weakly that he might catch his flu. Leaning forward, Yanjun reminds him again that real men don’t fall sick before pressing his lips on Zhangjing’s.

 

As soon as their lips meet, a lingering tension in the air dissipates. Zhangjing sighs into the kiss as Yanjun throws away his restraints, pushing forward to lie on top of the older boy. He swallows the gasp from Zhangjing’s mouth and smirks before nipping at the other’s lips again.

 

In between their urgent kisses, Zhangjing moans his name — wanting to tell the younger boy to stop, only to have his voice suggest otherwise. It is only when Yanjun holds his chin, the younger boy’s tongue asking for entrance beyond his lips, that Zhangjing finally shoves him off slightly.

 

“You’re going to get my flu!”

 

Yanjun looks utterly bewildered and slightly annoyed, but it does not faze the older boy. “Behave yourself, Lin Yanjun. Your health is important to me.”

 

Groaning, Yanjun rolls his eyes. “If you keep denying me, You Zhangjing, I might really fall sick.”

 

“But I’ll really stop if you’re uncomfortable,” he adds, looking into the older boy’s eyes for a sincere reply.

 

“Do whatever you want.” Zhangjing whispers and closes his eyes, becoming increasingly embarrassed under the other’s intense gaze.

 

So Yanjun does, returning his lips to where he wanted them to be — and more. Tasting Zhangjing’s mouth, his neck and hushed moans, licking the other’s ear just so the other would glare at him helplessly — and then back to devouring the other’s lips.

 

When they are beyond breathless, Yanjun lays down next to Zhangjing, pulling the other into an embrace he missed too much. The younger boy feels the other breathing heavily in his arms, the other’s heartbeats mixed with his own — and he places one last kiss on the other’s forehead.

 

“Aren’t you going to return to your own bed?” Zhangjing asks sleepily.

 

“And leave you here to sleep with the ghosts in this empty room?” The younger boy is glad that Zhangjing doesn’t see the smirk on his face. “Are you sure? I could leave now.”

 

When Zhangjing punches him lightly, Yanjun laughs, knowing his plan had worked.

 

“Don’t be scared, You Zhangjing,” he assures, “I’ll continue to sleep next to you.”

 

* * *

 

In the next two days, Yanjun proves to Zhangjing that he is, perhaps, what he defines as a real man.

 

Yanjun does not fall sick.

 

Not when they choose their groups for the final performance, nor when they are thrown into relentless bouts of practice sessions.

 

Much to his surprise and joy, Zhangjing also recovers sooner than he expects to.

 

“Did you know,” Yanjun whispers into his ear one day during practice break, “that kisses cure illnesses? Maybe that’s why you recovered so soon.”

 

Zhangjing’s eyes widen at the words and he turns to look at Yanjun as if to ask if he is out of his mind. He watches as the younger boy smiles at him: amused, mesmerized, and full of affection.

 

_“I like you, You Zhangjing.”_

 

Despite spending all his attention on practice, despite his exhaustion and the looming pressure of the finals — Yanjun’s confession had been replaying itself over and over again in Zhangjing’s mind. He thinks about the words that would have spilled from his mouth if the younger boy had not stopped him then.

 

_“I like you too, Yanjun, but I’m not sure if it’s similar to the one you have for me. And because I am unsure if it is just the platonic affection between friends or something more — I don’t want to lead you on.”_

 

_“Part of me actually wants to be selfish as well: to hold on to these uncertain feelings, to hold on to you — but then I’d feel too guilty. Guilty of binding you to words of feelings that hold no value. Words that might just give you temporary joy — that may result in a lasting sadness.”_

 

_“And you’re right. Even if I decided to be selfish, to hold on to you now — what would await us at the end of Idol Producer?”_

 

_“What if we both don’t make it? Would we be able to work on our relationship despite the huge disappointment and setback? “_

 

_“What if only one of us makes it? Are we so confident to pursue a long distance relationship, especially when one of us is felt behind?”_

 

_“And even if we both make it — will it only be smooth sailing from thereon? Will we both be determined to juggle our career along with these feelings?”_

 

Shaking his head at his thoughts, his questions, Zhangjing is once again grateful that Yanjun never asked for a reply. His doubts are best kept like that, he thinks, instead of spilling out as rivers of worries that would form an unnecessary sea of anxiety.

 

When Chaoze calls him from the door, Zhangjing’s restless mind finally relaxes. He gets up and follows the other without question, out the practice room into the colder hallway, down the stairs to a spot that is familiar to most trainees.

 

A blind spot for the ever-rolling cameras’ watchful view.

 

Zhangjing realized then that Chaoze wants to _talk_. It definitely isn’t something to do with practice, because he would not have to drag Zhangjing all the way out here if that was the case. That left only one other probably topic.

 

One that Zhangjing thinks he did not have to be nervous over.

 

Still, he bites his bottom lip anxiously when Chaoze asks about him and Yanjun. “As a leader,” the other starts, “I don’t want to pry about what’s going on between you two, because you both are focused on practicing again and that’s good enough.”

 

“But as a friend,” Chaoze’s voice softens, “I would like to know if everything is actually all right.”

 

Zhangjing thinks about the distance between Yanjun and himself since their breakup. About how empty he had felt without the younger boy close to him, without the other’s jokes, without the other’s subtle but sure care. Then about how quickly that distance had been chipped away by Yanjun’s late night visit. About how his days are suddenly warm again — even with the return of Yanjun’s relentless cold jokes, and especially with the return of the other’s thoughtful actions and words.

 

His thoughts — mostly his doubts and worries — also surface, but Zhangjing replies saying that everything is fine.

 

“I trust you both to sort your own things out,” Chaoze says after a moment, “so if you really say so, I’ll take your word for it.” At his words, Zhangjing blinks and nods slowly. His lips part then, as if wanting to say something, but he decides against it.

 

It doesn’t go unnoticed, as Chaoze makes one last offer: “Are you sure there’s nothing at all you’d like to tell me? You know I won’t judge you, or go around telling others, right?”

 

_You can trust me, You Zhangjing, you fool._

 

“Chaoze,” Zhangjing begins surely, despite knowing his next words to be ambiguous and possibly annoying for the other. “I should just focus on my career now, right? Along with his? Feelings can wait till later, right?”

 

The other sighs deeply and reaches to pinch his nose.

 

“As a leader, yes. You should focus on your career. His too.”

 

“But as a friend…?” Zhangjing asks, rubbing his nose.

 

“Feelings are fleeting, but some burn forever. I guess it depends on whose feelings you are referring to, and what those feelings are,” Chaoze answers carefully. “It’s best you ask the owner of said feelings.”

 

Zhangjing lets the words sink in as he nods. They say nothing more so Chaoze motions for them to leave, thinking to himself that if anyone — Lin Yanjun and You Zhangijng’s feelings aren’t the type to be fleeting in the least, so only one question remained.

 

_What feelings are you referring to, Zhangjing?_

 

* * *

 

The recording to choose the center for It’s OK is due the next morning, so everyone is scrambling to get the lines and moves down pat before they sleep. Exhaustion and tension are thick in the practice room, but it doesn’t faze Lin Yanjun.

 

Not when Zhangjing is slumped beside him, the older’s head resting on his shoulder. Yanjun catches sight of his own lopsided grin in the mirror and quickly removes it. It proves to be hard task, especially with Zhangjing drifting into slumber with each passing second. Yanjun is reminded of the times they have slept beside each other, especially how soft and perfect Zhangjing’s body felt in his embrace. His hands itch and his grin fights to return, so Yanjun nudges the older boy to wake him up.

 

The vocalist mumbles something incoherent and looks at Yanjun in confusion. “Is it morning?” Zhangjing’s sleep-laced voice causes Yanjun’s heart to skip, but he manages to stop himself from staring in a daze, shaking his head and answering Zhangjing with the proper time.

 

“Thanks for waking me up,” Zhangjing says in between yawns.

 

“Perhaps you should go sleep,” the younger boy suggests, adding that he shouldn’t risk falling sick now, of all times. Tired, Zhangjing agrees with Yanjun, nods sleepily and attempts to get up. It takes him a few times, so Yanjun chuckles and stands up to offer a hand. Zhangjing reaches to grasp Yanjun’s fingers lightly, but the other moves to hold his hand firmly, pulling him up seemingly without effort.

 

Wobbling instead of standing properly, Yanjun catches the older boy as he leans into his arms. Someone shouts for them to get a room and Yanjun feels heat rush to the tip of his ears. Biting down a smile, he hears Chaoze telling them to not mess around and for Yanjun to tuck Zhangjing into bed. With a nod and a ‘roger that’, Yanjun bends down to hook his arms behind Zhangjing’s knees — to lift him up princess style.

 

All traces of sleep Zhangjing immediately when catcalls and wolf whistles fill his ears. Part of Zhangjing wants to berate the younger boy’s action, but the other part of him is too exhausted to protest. Burying his flushing face in the crook of Yanjun’s neck, he merely whispers fiercely for the other to get them out of the room.

 

Yanjun rarely, if ever, goes against Zhangjing’s requests — so the older boy soon finds himself away from the practice room and the teasing chaos that filled it. The sudden hum of silence reminds Zhangjing of his fatigue, but he fights against it to ask Yanjun if he is heavy. “You can put me down, you don’t have to carry me all the way.”

 

“If Qin Fen and Linong can lift you, so can I,” is Yanjun’s unyielding reply. “And yes,” he adds, “you are heavy. But I’m not going to put you down just because of that.” Since Yanjun is looking ahead, Zhangjing doesn’t bother glaring at him, reaching instead to pinch his arm lightly.

 

“I’ll drop you if you keep that up,” Yanjun warns, but Zhangjing giggles immediately in reply. “You would never.” Yanjun grins, thinking the other doesn’t see his amusement at Zhangjing’s faith in him, but Zhangjing sees the dimple on his cheek and feels his heart skip a beat.

 

True to Zhangjing’s faith, Yanjun carries him all the way back to the dorm. They bump into a few other people on the way there, trainees and staff alike, all of them teasing the pair or smiling at them knowingly. When Yanjun finally sets him down in the room, Zhangjing thinks his face is probably on fire if it isn’t already burnt.

 

His thoughts spiral from how Yanjun managed to carry him all the way, to whether he should have even let the younger boy do so; to how comfortable and safe it felt to be held in Yanjun’s arms, to whether it has complicated things between them.

 

As if he hears the thoughts in Zhangjing’s head, Yanjun reaches to pinch the older boy’s nose lightly. “Stop whatever it is you’re thinking, and go bathe,” he says, or rather, orders. Zhangjing complies, not wanting to drown in another bout of endless questions.

 

* * *

 

Yanjun loves long baths, but there are some others that he loves more.

 

Like a certain boy from Malaysia.

 

So for once, he finishes bathing in five minutes and waits for the other to be done.

 

Zhangjing lets out a surprised gasp when he returns to find Yanjun seated on his bed, his hair damp and a towel hanging over his shoulders. “Am I dreaming? Did you leave after me to bathe but finish before I did?”

 

“Come over here so I can pinch you to make sure.”

 

Throwing his towel at Yanjun and hearing the other laugh, Zhangjing moves to get the hair dryer. Before he switches it on, the younger boy is already at his side, taking it from him. “Lin Yanjun, what are you-”

 

“Let me dry your hair for you.”

 

Caught off-guard by the sudden offer, Zhangjing doesn’t find the words to reply. Yanjun takes the opportunity to turn the hair dryer on, blowing and combing his long fingers through Zhangjing’s wet hair until it is fluffy again — just the way he liked it.

 

When the room is silent again without the whirring of the hair dryer, Zhangjing asks: “Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why dry my hair?”

 

“Because it was wet? You’re not going to sleep like that, are you?”

 

Zhangjing huffs, wondering if Yanjun is really playing dumb. “I could’ve done it myself.”

 

“Oh,” Yanjun grins. “I just wanted to.”

 

“What kind of answer is that?”

 

“Is it not appropriate? Do I need reasons to do the things I want to?”

 

Giving up, Zhangjing says he does not and that they should get to bed. Stepping on the ladder to his bunk, Zhangjing pauses and watches as Yanjun hangs their towels, wondering if the younger boy would switch off the lights.

 

Yanjun pauses at the switches and looks back at him.

 

“Will you sleep with me tonight?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Do I need reasons to do the things I want to?”

 

Zhangjing bites his lower lip at the repeated answer. “If the things you’re doing involves someone else, shouldn’t they at least know…?”

 

“Because I like it,” Yanjun answers matter-of-factly. “Because I’m tired of holding back. I just want to dry your hair, be with you, sleep with you — while I still can. Before things change, before you tell me to stop, before the possibility of us being separated.”

 

 _“If I said to stop now, would you?”_ Zhangjing wonders, but never voices it.

 

“Indulge me if you don’t hate me,” Yanjun adds, when the older boy doesn’t reply. “I’m sorry for being selfish, but _please_ indulge me, Zhangjing. _We only have a week left._ ”

 

The younger boy’s last words resound in Zhangjing’s mind and his body automatically moves to lay down on Yanjun’s bed. He moves to the inner-side of the bed and faces the wall, listening as Yanjun switches off the lights, as the younger boy pads back and onto the bed, as he arranges the blanket to cover them both.

 

His breath hitches when Yanjun’s arm finds its place over his waist, as warmth from the other’s chest seeps into his back. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear what I have to say regarding your confession now?” Zhangjing’s voice is soft and hesitant, but he feels Yanjun tense up.

 

“I’m sure,” the other replies, nudging the back of his head with his nose. “It can wait till later.”

 

“How much later?”

 

“I’ll ask you again when it’s time.”

 

“Okay,” the older boy replies, because he does not know what else to say. It feels awkward to him to leave their conversation like that, so he digs through his mind for unvoiced thoughts and smiles when he finds one.

 

“Did you know? Compared to all the performances before, Quit Smoking was the hardest. Especially during the moment before I had to go on stage.”

 

“That’s because you were running a fever, silly.” There is no aggressiveness in Yanjun’s voice, only a soft bitterness.

 

“It’s not that,” Zhangjing corrects him. “Before that performance, you would cheer me on every time before I performed. I felt less brave without it.” Pausing, he adds softly after: “I don’t like performing without you cheering me on before I go up on stage.”

 

He hears Yanjun inhale sharply before the younger boy’s embrace tightens around him.

 

“If that’s the case, I’ll make sure to always cheer you on before a performance from now on.”

 

The other’s promise fills Zhangjing with a firm assurance, a warm comfort just like his embrace. Despite his doubts, Zhangjing reaches to intertwine his fingers between Yanjun’s.

 

“Thank you.”

 

In the dark of their room, Yanjun’s heart skips a beat and tears swell at his eyes at the older boy’s action and words. He hugs Zhangjing impossibly closer to himself and presses a soft kiss into the other’s hair.

 

_“Thank you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took longer than the ones before!  
> I fell sick twice and had a lot to handle ･ﾟ･(｡✖д✖｡)･ﾟ･
> 
> If you haven’t already noticed, I prefer having chapters for To Quit Smoking to be longer, so I spend more time finishing up the chapters compared to Venus Records. I initially planned to end this fic at seven chapters (yes I’m crying I know it’s already chapter nine right now), but after I realized how long it was getting, I thought I would be able to end in the next chapter — but right now, I suppose it will be slightly longer…?
> 
> Still, in case you are worried this fic will never end: don’t worry! I have already drafted the ending, so do look forward to it? :)
> 
> I’m also working on another ZhangJun fic, if you have yet to check it out: Leaves. 
> 
> As usual, I’m on Twitter @zhan9jun if you’d like to talk to me about this fic :D My DMs are always open for anything Zhangjing/ZhangJun/Idol Producer related!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to beta-reading fairy [sunspritecyj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspritecyj)! ♥

Waking up next to someone — or rather, with someone in his embrace — grants Yanjun a refreshing sense of satisfaction. Opening his eyes, Yanjun wonders why he doesn’t feel the exhaustion that has plagued him in the past three months.

 

When someone, _Zhangjing_ , stirs in his arms, he understands immediately. Yanjun isn’t one to wake up feeling great. He isn’t a morning person, much less an _early_ morning person. Yet, there are always exceptions when Zhangjing is involved. Turning to look at the clock, Yanjun notes that there is still time before they are to wake up, so he makes no effort to get out of bed.

 

Instead, he directs his focus back to the sleeping figure in his arms.

 

A smile tugs at his lips when the other mumbles softly, the older boy’s fingers pushing against him lightly and reaching to pull the blanket over his own shoulder. Yanjun releases the other just so he can move the blanket to cover Zhangjing properly, watching the smile and snuggle close to himself.

 

Considering the situation that they are already in, Yanjun doesn’t bother holding back from brushing Zhangjing’s fringe aside to press a light kiss on his forehead. A soft and sleepy ‘don’t’ reaches his ears and he freezes.

 

He had not meant to wake Zhangjing up.

 

“Don’t go,” the older boy mumbles. Despite having no context, Yanjun whispers in reply that he is there and that he is not going anywhere. As the older boy’s lips curve into a sleepy smile, Yanjun’s heart swells. Reaching to trace the curve of Zhangjing’s cheek, his heart skips when the older boy whispers again.

 

“Yanjun.” Lin Yanjun does not know when he started feeling so, but he had come to absolutely love the way Zhangjing called his name. As if Zhangjing was born to say his name in the best possible way. “Yanjun,” Zhangjing repeats again, “you’re so handsome.”

 

The younger boy chuckles immediately upon hearing the compliment. Despite it being said unconsciously, it worked to start his day off wonderfully. As if waking up next to Zhangjing did not already make it so. He ruffles Zhangjing’s hair and whispers in reply: “I know, but thanks for telling me anyway. Makes my day a thousand times brighter.”

 

With the same sleepy smile on his face, Zhangjing snuggles closer to Yanjun and says nothing more. The younger boy does not need anything more at that moment, either, so he closes his eyes.

 

Instead of sleeping, Yanjun tries his best to etch a certain feeling into his mind and being.

 

The one that bloom from waking up next to someone he deeply cherishes.

 

* * *

 

That morning, Zhangjing is in exceptionally high spirits.

 

Yanjun wonders if it is because the older boy enjoyed sharing a bed with him. Or merely because he had gifted Zhangjing with extra portions during breakfast.

 

However, the younger boy can only guess the reason for Zhangjing’s cheery mood because he does not have time to ask. Thrown immediately into the evaluation and recording for the center position of It’s OK, Yanjun is spent by the time they are to watch each other’s clips to vote for the final trainee to take up the coveted position.

 

As the clips are shown, Yanjun grows more restless and nervous. Zhangjing had reached the recording late and had to sit at the far end of the bench — very far away from Yanjun. In fact, Yanjun is so used to being right next to the other that having even one person between them seemed like a great distance. What more now when he needed the older boy’s presence to reassure and calm him down?

 

When they announce that his clip is next, Yanjun gulps and steals a glance at Zhangjing. Their gazes lock and Zhangjing flashes him a bright smile — one that soothed his frazzled nerves. Dimples appear on Yanjun’s cheeks as his exhaustion ebbs away.

 

Still, he can’t help but feel a tinge of anxiety when his video plays. However, it soon turns into bashfulness instead, when Zhangjing compliments him loudly.

 

“So handsome!”

 

“Even your hands looks good!”

 

“Cute dimples!”

 

“Handsome, handsome!”

 

With Zhangjing’s melodious compliments ringing in his ears, Yanjun feels his cheeks heat up. He hopes the others don’t notice, and takes the chance to lower his head when he takes off his jacket in the clip. “Too skinny,” he comments while shaking his head — taking the chance to take a really deep breath and hide his face from the camera. Willing his cheeks or ears to not be tinged with red, Yanjun continues to hear compliments pouring from Zhangjing’s lips and feels his heart swelling with each word.

 

‘If you act like this,’ Yanjun thinks, ‘how am I ever going to get over you if nothing works out between us?’

 

* * *

 

Yanjun’s ears once again ring with Zhanging’s voice when he is announced as the center for their group. In a daze, Yanjun feels others patting him on the back, shaking his shoulders, raining words of congratulations onto him. Feeling overjoyed and overwhelmed, Yanjun looks towards where Zhangjing is.

 

Amidst the others, he sees a familiar smile flashed at him — along with two thumbs up. If he wasn’t held back in a one-sided hug then, Yanjun would have moved over to wrap Zhangjing in his arms. However, since he is restricted, the younger boy merely grins in reply.

 

The little celebration does not last long.

 

Everyone is sent back to the dorms to pack up in preparation for the finals, with one last recording to do before they depart to where the finals will be held. Stilling bubbling with the excitement of being the center for their final stage, Yanjun throws open the door to their dorm to see Chaoze and Linong busy loading items into their luggage bags.

 

“Where’s Zhangjing?”

 

Chaoze huffs and shakes his head. “That little cutie has run off to play with others,” he begins, then as if realizing he should not have said that, stops abruptly. Yanjun does not bother hiding the scowl that appears on his face. “Where did he go off to?”

 

Without looking up from his bag, Linong mentions that Wenjun had called out to Zhangjing on their way back. Oblivious to Yanjun’s sudden change in mood upon hearing his words, Linong only looks at Chaoze in surprise when the other nudges him after Yanjun turns around to leave abruptly.

 

Making sure that Yanjun is out of earshot, Chaoze nudges Linong. “Why’d you say that?”

 

The unknowing smile on Linong’s face makes Chaoze wonder if the younger boy is merely innocently oblivious, or if it was the opposite and if he had done so purposely.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, I know I should wait till our next practice, but I wanted to practice before,” Wenjun point at the lyrics sheet as he explains. Zhangjing notes the many scribbles on the paper, very much like his: highlighting which notes to emphasize, stressing difficult pronunciations and when to take breaths.

 

“You’re acting as if you’re not doing well,” Zhangjing teases and tuts, grinning at the Yehua boy. Wenjun rolls his eyes but smiles back, saying that no matter how he did, he would still feel better after Zhangjing’s guidance.

 

“Don’t flatter me,” Zhangjing chides the other but feels his heart swell at the words, “just remember to treat me to a good meal when this is all over.”

 

Chuckling, Wenjun raises an eyebrow. “I guess when this is all over, you would deserve a good meal. A break from all your dieting, huh?” Zhangjing nods enthusiastically in agreement. “Bi Wenjun, I might have misjudged you — you’re actually a good guy!”

 

A flash of reservation crosses the other’s face, but Zhangjing brushes it off as his own imagination. “You have my number, remember to ask me for the meal I owe you,” Wenjun says, his voice slightly softer than usual. “No matter how things turn out, we should go for a proper meal after this.”

 

The other’s words sweep Zhangjing up in a wave of unexpected sorrow. “Let’s do our best,” Zhangjing says, not wanting to think about the upcoming separations he would have to go through — if not with Wenjun, there were still many others. Thoughts whirl in his mind as he thinks of the many other friends he had made during his time here and he does not catch Wenjun’s next words.

 

“Pardon? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch what you said. Could you repeat…?”

 

Despite offering his brightest smile in apology, there is a mild look of disbelief and annoyance on the taller boy’s face at the request. “Don’t look at me like that,” Zhangjing reaches to slap Wenjun’s arm lightly. “I still have trouble with your accent, I’m still a foreigner, okay?!” Giving in quickly, Wenjun nods teasing to brush off the excuse that he had heard many times before. “Sure, sure, I’ll repeat myself now, so listen carefully.”

 

The smaller boy does not expect Wenjun to lean close to his ear to whisper: “Yes, let’s do our best. I hope we can debut together.”

 

Zhangjing’s ears and cheeks flare immediately. He does not know if it is because of the sudden proximity between them, the words that seemed to hint at something beyond a simple wish, or if the atmosphere between them shifted to something that reminded him of when he was alone with Yanjun.

 

He does not have time to figure out what exactly the cause is, however, because a familiar voice soon cuts through his thoughts.

 

His name.

 

Yanjun’s voice.

 

Turning around abruptly, Zhangjing almost slips but feels Wenjun’s arms catch him just in time. Despite being cradled in the taller boy’s arms, Zhangjing feels uneasy as he looks from Yanjun to Wenjun.

 

Indeed, Yanjun had always been reputed to look intimidating — but Zhangjing had spent enough time with the other to be able to tell when the younger boy was fuming. His mind scrambles to think of reasons as to why Yanjun would be upset.

 

He does not remember accidentally leaving snacks on Yanjun’s bed, nor did he borrow Yanjun’s clothes without informing the other. Perhaps it is because he left one of Yanjun’s lotions uncapped after using it? Even though he would not have minded anyone else doing that to his belongings, Yanjun liked his things orderly and clean.

 

Zhangjing bites his lip. He had thought that his enthusiastic compliments for Yanjun would have soothed the younger boy’s annoyance over the matter. Subconsciously, Zhangjing leans back onto Wenjun, not feeling in the mood to confront an angry Yanjun.

 

When Yanjun repeats his name, Zhangjing feels a shiver run up his spine.

 

“W-what’s up?” Despite his efforts, the panic in the older boy’s voice is evident for all three of them to hear.

 

Yanjun’s voice is monotonous when he asks why Zhangjing isn’t back at the dorm packing. When Zhangjing avoids looking into his eyes and fidgets, the rapper adds that they do not have much time till the next recording.

 

“I pulled him aside,” Wenjun answers. There is a subtle fierceness in his voice that Zhangjing has never heard before. He wonders if it is an automatic response when dealing with someone who is upset — or if the other knew something he did not.

 

“Is it that urgent that you have to use up Zhangjing’s packing time?”

 

Since joining Idol Producer, Yanjun has never been brusque with anyone there — so to say that Zhangjing is shocked to hear his tone and words is an understatement. Wenjun does not seem fazed, however, and replies that he had asked if Zhangjing had time to spare. “Since Zhangjing said he did, I chose to believe in him.”

 

Even though Zhangjing sees Yanjun’s lips part, the other never replies, merely glaring at Wenjun then at him. The silence settles like a thick blanket of tension upon Zhangjing, until Yanjun lets out a chuckle.

 

“Sorry for bothering, then,” he says before turning to leave.

 

* * *

 

Yanjun never takes too long to pack. When he is done in twenty minutes, he leaves the room immediately, not wanting to bump into Zhangjing.

 

Making his way to the recording room, he sighs out loud into the empty corridor. Other trainees were probably not done packing. Even if they were, they were probably sitting together in their rooms trying to spend as much time with each other before the finals.

 

Before possible separation.

 

It dawns on Yanjun that Wenjun would be doing the same: pulling Zhangjing aside just to have more moments they could share together. Compared to Yanjun, Wenjun had lesser chances of seeing Zhangjing in the future, unless they both made it into the Top Nine.

 

At least, Yanjun would still see Zhangjing back at the company if things didn't work out ideally.

 

Despite the raging jealousy within him, Yanjun feels a tinge of sympathy for Wenjun. He was not as oblivious to think that Wenjun merely treated Zhangjing as a friend. Yanjun’s ego would not allow him to think that Wenjun cared for Zhangjing as much as he did — but he could not deny how Wenjun’s gaze would turn gentler, softer and captivated every time he looked at Zhangjing.

 

A person infatuated with someone could easily spot another with the same feelings.

 

Especially if their affections were directed at the same person.

 

Even if their level of affections differed.

 

Only because Yanjun cannot believe that there could be anyone who yearned for You Zhangjing as much as he did right now.

 

As his thoughts progress, Yanjun’s anger at Wenjun gets mixed in with sympathy. Even though he felt bitter towards the Yehua trainee for being close to Zhangjing, for taking up time he could spend with the older boy away from him — Yanjun knew very well why he did it.

 

He understood too well.

 

The painful longing to be close to Zhangjing.

 

The melancholy that seeped through one’s entire being when Zhangjing’s bright voice is absent.

 

A sudden thought causes a wave of panic to course through Yanjun: did Wenjun confess to Zhangjing too?

 

Could Zhangjing have replied?

 

If he did — where would that leave Yanjun?

 

A tinge of regret seeps into Yanjun at the questions in his mind, urging him to retract his decision to not have Zhangjing reply to his confession. If the other had different feelings for him, even if he had other thoughts in mind — would it not be better for Yanjun to find out now?

 

The rational part of him disagrees. How would he focus on the finals if he were drowning in the emotions of Zhangjing’s reply? How could he selfishly decide to distract the other right now? Unfortunately, the other half of Yanjun  tempts him to brazenly chase after a confirmation: after all, something definite would grant him peace mind. Yanjun allows the two choices to chase each other around in his mind, never letting one overpower the other.

 

By the time other trainees fill the room, Yanjun has yet to come to a conclusion.

 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Wenjun entering with Zhangjing right next to him. Immediately looking away to suppress the sudden rise of jealousy and anger, Yanjun distracts himself with the lyrics of his rap.

 

It manages to keep him sane until they are briefed and sent off to another room for their next segment. Yanjun thought being separated during filming would grant him some form of repose, but the next recording turns out to be him watching a video from his parents.

 

If struggling with his feelings for Zhangjing weren’t enough to send him over the edge, watching the video did. He looks weakly at the screen, at his parents, listening to his mother’s words as his trainee life flashes through his mind: his rebellious decision to pursue this career, the setbacks he had, the endless exhausting practices, the gruelling months at Idol Producer; and ultimately: the feelings he had tried to sort out while juggling all those.

 

By the time Yanjun’s recording is over, he is nonchalant as ever on the outside — but a total wreck within.

 

* * *

 

The sun is setting by the time the trainees are all done with their recordings for the day. It is rare to see it out in the clear sky in winter, so despite it already setting in the horizon, the buildings are still cast in a soft golden glow.

 

Dinner is starting soon, so some choose to wait in the cafeteria while some rush back to do more packing. Others choose to linger in the rare warmth of the sunset in hopes of easing their exhaustion and anxiety.

 

Zhangjing belongs to the group that heads back to the dorm, only having done half of his packing earlier. He spots Yanjun at the corner of his eye, but feels apprehensive about calling out to the other. The younger boy’s displeasure from earlier in the day still clung about him — an aura that seemed like the usual fierce Yanjun to most others; but a hidden anger to Zhangjing.

 

He did not feel like unearthing Yanjun’s ire, not when he could only think about dinner and how soon he would finish packing. When someone nudges his arm, he turns and smiles at the other.

 

Bi Wenjun’s smile is a comforting breath of wind that chases away the clouded thoughts in his mind. “Heading back to the dorms?” Zhangjing nods and asks if he would like to come along, wanting to distract himself from sinking into a pool of never ending and needless thoughts.

 

Wenjun agrees immediately and they set off into the cool evening air, sharing about what happened during their private recording segments.

 

“I thought they were going to do another horror segment,” Zhangjing complains. “If they really did, I think I might die of a heart attack and never make it to the finals.”

 

“That would be regretful,” Wenjun comments, “especially since I still owe you a meal.”

 

The reminder excites Zhangjing and he exclaims out loud, reaching to grab onto Wenjun’s arm happily. “I’ll be sure to choose something really expensive,” the shorter boy teases. “My teaching fees are really expensive, you know!”

 

Letting out a scoff, Wenjun nods and agrees reluctantly — just to tease him. Zhangjing replies with a roll of his eyes, followed by a laugh. At the sound, Wenjun’s lips curve into a smile, the gaze in his eyes softening further. It reminds Zhangjing of someone else and his heart skips — unsure of what exactly it is skipping for.

 

Or who it is skipping for.

 

“Wenjun!”

 

Both the summoned person and Zhangjing turn back to see Yanjun standing a short distance away. While Zhangjing’s face is one of surprise, he does not miss the brief nonchalance that crosses Wenjun’s face before it is replaced with his usual charming smile.

 

“Justin’s looking for you,” Yanjun relays, pointing towards his back. Waving wildly at the doors, is Justin and Chengcheng. A helpless smile replaces Wenjun’s charming one and he looks at Zhangjing apologetically. “Guess I’ve got to go take care of my kids,” he laments.

 

“Go be a dad,” Zhangjing giggles and Wenjun squeezes his shoulder lightly before taking off towards his fellow label mates. Even from where he is standing, Zhangjing can hear the other’s ‘what did you guys do this time’ and can’t help but smile, only to have it falter when he realizes that Yanjun is staring at him.

 

“What’s wrong,” Zhangjing asks on impulse, not because he wants to know. It takes some time before the younger boys shakes his head in reply. “I’ll go pack now then,” Zhangjing announces quietly and turns to resume his walk back to the dorms.

 

He feels Yanjun’s gaze on his back, hears the other’s footsteps behind him, but does not stop to look or question the other.

 

* * *

 

Yanjun has been staring at him from his bed for the past ten minutes or so.

 

Not that Zhangjing has kept count. He had been trying to ignore the other boy’s overwhelming presence in the room, doing his best to pack quickly. He can sense that the other boy is upset and would usually attempt to comfort the other, but it is layered with a suppressed fury that sets off all of Zhangjing’s alarms. With the unresolved tension from earlier still hanging in the air, Zhangjing finds himself at a loss for words. Shuffling about in the small room, he picks up his belongings: folding clothes and stacking them atop each other, then slipping other items into the spaces between them in his luggage bag.

 

He does not realize when Yanjun moves from the bed to stand beside him, so a startled gasp leaves his lips when the other’s large hand grabs his wrist.

 

“Is anything going on between you and Wenjun?”

 

If the action had not caught Zhangjing off guard, the question certainly does.

 

“Huh?”

 

Yanjun frowns at Zhangjing’s reaction, his lips part as if to say something, but it takes a while before his next words. “Do you like him?”

 

“What kind of question is this?” Zhangjing tries to laugh it off, but his voice just falls flat from nervousness. “I like everyone here.”

 

The other’s frown deepens into a scowl at his words. “Do you know that he likes you?”

 

It is Zhangjing’s turn to frown, but he quickly turns it into a look of confusion. “Is there anyone here who doesn’t like me?”

 

“I’m not talking about platonic affection.” Yanjun’s voice is fierce and Zhangjing shivers.

 

“Did he tell you that?”

 

“No, but I can tell.”

 

“You can’t go about assuming someone else’s feelings, Lin Yanjun,” Zhangjing does not understand why they are discussing this, nor does he understand why Yanjun’s grip on him is tightening. “What’s gotten into you?”

 

Yanjun’s gaze is lowered and Zhangjing can barely make out that it is quivering — unknown to him if it is from anger or something else. Despite his confusion, Zhangjing feels more pained to see the younger boy act this way. When he says the other’s name again, he barely finishes before his wrist is loosened and large hands cup his cheeks.

 

Staring straight into Yanjun’s eyes, Zhangjing can finally make out the swirl of emotions within the younger boy: a relentless fierceness subdued by a sea of uncertainty, a plea for help hidden messily beneath a blanket of pride, a contrasting want to pull him in and push him away.

 

Zhangjing feels the other’s breath on his lips — when had Yanjun’s face get so near? — and he waits. Waits for the touch on his lips that had grown to be familiar, yet still had Zhangjing feeling excited but utterly nervous.

 

It never happens.

 

The warmth from Yanjun’s hands on his cheeks is lost and the other moves away quickly, heading towards the door.

 

Zhangjing recognizes this side of Yanjun too well, having dealt with his fiery moods back when they were trainees. None of the others from Banana Culture could soothe him, that was, if they even dared to. There were not many of them who dared to in the first place. “You’re the only one he listens to,” Chaoze had said then, nudging him towards the room where Yanjun had locked himself in for most of the weekend.

 

The truth was, even though he had been afraid, Zhangjing had also wanted to comfort the other. Chaoze’s words had given him the last push he needed to step into Yanjun’s private zone — a place where Zhangjing knew he had to tread carefully, else risk damaging his relationship with Yanjun.

 

Chaoze is not here this time and Zhangjing is afraid.

 

Very much so.

 

It is too close to the finals, too close to his dream — _their dreams_ — for him to make a wrong move or say something stupid. He should let Yanjun go, perhaps the other would cool down and they could talk properly later when they were both full from dinner, when they weren’t cranky from exhaustion and starvation.

 

Yet when Zhangjing comes to the end of his decision, he finds his arms wrapped tightly around Yanjun’s waist.

 

His cheek pressed onto the back of the young boy’s broad back.

 

His fingers grabbing tightly at the front of Yanjun’s shirt.

 

His heart beating wildly in his chest.

 

His voice asking the other not to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, when I started writing To Quit Smoking: I think it’ll take eight chapters. My draft is pretty simple, after all.
> 
> Me, after a few chapters: Oh, maybe just two more additional chapters, phew!
> 
> Me, after writing this chapter: ….someone please chop my hands off?
> 
> This is possibly the longest chapter so far...? Not that I keep count, but I feel like I wrote for centuries! There is still more to come, but I honestly hope to tie things up in two more chapter maximum! Sorry for not ending it sooner!
> 
> That aside, I just want to thank all of you who take time to leave comments, kudos, who message me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/zhan9jun), and who vote in my ZhangJun/fic polls there! I’m transitioning between jobs so this month is extra hellish, and honestly, if no one is asking for an update, I wouldn’t be as enthusiastic to get it done (yes, that is an invitation to ask me to update when I don’t)!
> 
> I have a lot to write for this fic, despite having the end already drafted out. There is also an epilogue planned, but I have some extra plans for that and hope to share it soon (together with the next chapter, hopefully)!
> 
> Until then, may all of us be blessed with ZhangJun!
> 
> The drought it too much to bear!


	11. Chapter 11

“Don’t leave.”

 

Yanjun has never imagined himself to react so strongly to two simple words.

 

He feels himself shiver in Zhangjing’s hold, hot tears pooling in his eyes, his lips trembling in vain to hold his cries from spilling out. He does not like being seen crying, although that thought seems to always waver when it comes to Zhangjing.

 

Out of the few times he had cried since meeting Zhangjing, Yanjun had felt better with the other’s words of comfort.

 

Especially when it is coupled with him being in the older boy’s soft embrace. 

 

The Malaysian boy had a way with his voice whenever he comforted Yanjun - perhaps the perks of being a talented vocalist - his tone always carried the right amount of gentle firmness, a feeling of warm encouragement, and a certain playful coaxing that always worked to lift his moods.

 

Yet, Yanjun had wanted to be Zhangjing’s wall. To be the strong pillar of support in the other’s life. One that did not crumble under pressure and overwhelming emotions. One that Zhangjing could always depend on when days got too hard — or even on days when he just needed a shoulder to lean on for a quick nap.

 

In Yanjun’s life, You Zhangjing is the only person he had ever felt such conflicted feelings towards: the person he wanted to comfort and be comforted by, the person he wanted to protect yet be protected by, the person he imagines he understands very well — just as well as Zhangjing knows him. 

 

The person he had come to treasure so much, that he hopes treasures him at least half as much in return.

 

He feels like a hypocrite for thinking so. For constantly letting his selfish desires take precedence before the other’s feelings — for sweeping the other up in his wants despite the other priorities that lay before them. 

 

“Let go of me, Zhangjing.”

 

He hears the crack in his voice, but feels entirely helpless. The fact that this side of him is revealed to Zhangjing now — Yanjun feels that he has already hit rock bottom. His mind is only filled with thoughts of escaping: first from Zhangjing, then perhaps from the rest of his worries.

 

However, Zhangjing does not indulge him. Instead, he repeats himself and tightens his hold around Yanjun. The words, the small gesture, the confidence in Zhangjing’s voice causes another ripple of emotions to course through Yanjun. 

 

Taking a deep breath, Yanjun tries to hold his tears back. 

 

“What are you upset over?” Zhangjing asks, but Yanjun has no answer. Or rather, he has too many answers and does not know where to start from.

 

Does he start from Zhangjing? The joy and the jealousy that stemmed from his affections for Zhangjing, that were not of the older boy’s fault but his own?

 

“Is it me?” The older boy tries again, but Yanjun’s only reply is the trembling of his body and nothing more.

 

Should he tell Zhangjing about the video of his parents? About how his father had been silent throughout the entire video, never once asking about his well-being or giving a word of encouragement?

 

“Did something happen during your recording?”

 

Should he blame the pressure of being chosen as the center? Or should he just go with the usual: that he is stressed of the finals?

 

With still no answer from the taller boy, Zhangjing continues, words spilling out of his mouth in an attempt to comfort the other, if not find the cause of his misery. “Are you feeling pressured as the center for the next performance? I voted for you, because you looked really cool and handsome as the center, I think you’d win a lot of hearts. That you’d cause a lot of fans to faint, that there’ll be a lot more votes for you.”

 

“Let me go, Zhangjing,” Yanjun says, feeling himself melt at the other’s words. If Zhangjing continued on, his last defenses would melt away and he would be entirely dependant on the older boy. By then, Yanjun would want nothing but to selfishly keep Zhangjing by his side forever — because where else in the world would he ever find another person who understands him so well? 

 

“If you’re worried about the finals, you’re not alone. But we’ve all talked about this before, with the rest of them, no?” Zhangjing reminds Yanjun of the time before the rest of the Banana Culture trainees left. “We would work harder, for their sake, and we would do our best and leave it to fate, remember?”

 

“Or is it your parents?” The older boy continues with his guesses, not knowing that he has been spot on thus far. “What did they say in the video?”

 

“Zhangjing, if you don’t let me go…”

 

“Are you perhaps angry that I didn’t pack and went to help Wenjun instead?” Zhangjing says, not wanting to hear whatever threat Yanjun has in mind. “I just felt that I can pack any other time, but I wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with everyone else with the result being so unpredictable. Don’t be angry.”

 

Letting out a defeated sigh, Zhangjing decides to say one last thing before stopping. “Lin Yanjun,” his tone is careful but sure. “I’ve said that you’re our wall, that your  _ my _ wall, but,” he takes a deep breath, “you can cry when you’re feeling sad, too. I can be your wall, too.”

 

The next second, Zhangjing finds himself pushed back with unintentional force, stumbling back with Yanjun in his arms. He almost falls, but manages to step in a way that leaves him landing on the bed instead. The younger boy’s face is buried in the crook of his neck, his tears rolling down Zhangjing’s skin to seep into the collar of his sweater, his cries muffled — but the sound still causing the older boy’s heart to ache.

 

He lets Yanjun cry, his hands stroking rhythmically down the other’s back as he coos into the other boy’s ear. To be entirely honest, despite not being very heavy, Yanjun’s weight on him still stifles Zhangjing, but he holds back from nudging the other off himself. There is an ache in his heart that deepens with every sob that escapes Yanjun’s shaking body.

 

With every word that spills from Yanjun’s lips. 

 

Yanjun usually cries first and talks later, so it is a first for both of them to hear the younger boy pour out his feelings in between his sobs. From how defeated he had felt after watching the video because his father had not offered any words of encouragement, to his irrational jealousy because Zhangjing choose to help Wenjun instead of packing, to his inability to do anything about it or the dawning burden that came with him being the center . 

 

“I feel so conflicted, Zhangjing,” Yanjun says, shaking his head, his nose brushing against Zhangjing’s neck, “I said I’d show my father that I will go to the end of my decision, but I get worked up just because he doesn’t tell me I’m doing well. I told you I didn’t need a reply from you when I confessed, but I ended up getting jealous over something petty. I said I didn’t want to distract you any further, but here I am and unloading all my worries onto you.”

 

“And it’s fine,” Zhangjing says, his hand resting on the other’s back now, patting gently. “I just said I could be your wall, Lin Yanjun. So let me.”

 

“Can you?”

 

Zhangjing might be shorter and seemingly softer, but he hates being challenged and always reacts stubbornly. “Why are you being rude to someone who is comforting you? Do you think I can’t be your wall, Lin Yanjun?”

 

“If I made a selfish request, would you still be my wall?”

 

Stunned into silence by Yanjun’s unexpectedly sharp words, Zhangjing inhales sharply. After a silent moment of pondering, he reaches to pinch Yanjun’s arm. 

 

The younger boy yelps in response and moves to sit away from him, looking fiercer than ever. “What was that for?” At Yanjun’s raised and displeased voice, Zhangjing shouts back: “I said I’ll be your wall, of course I’ll be! Do you think I’d say so just for the sake of it?“

 

“It’s not easy being my wall — I need too many things right now, so much that I can’t be the wall that you wanted me to be,” Yanjun retorts, feeling angrier because of the older boy’s response. “So don’t just throw those words around if you can’t give me what I need.”

 

Zhangjing’s is looking at him incredulously and there is a fire in his eyes that makes Yanjun almost regret his words. Despite usually being friendly and warm, Zhangjing had also been a part of the many arguments between the Banana Culture trainees — so Yanjun recognizes  _ that _ particular tone in Zhangjing’s voice when he speaks next. 

 

“There’s a difference to whether I can’t or if I just don’t want to,” Zhangjing shifts, cornering Yanjun at the corner of the wall. Still, Yanjun is not called fierce just only because of his looks. Tilting his head and smirking bitterly back at Zhangjing, he replies that despite the differences, they still result in the same thing.

 

“Tell me what you need, then,” Zhangjing leans dangerously close, but not as dangerous as the glint in his eyes is. 

 

“I really want to hear that you like me — the way that I like you,” Yanjun whispers. “Even if it’s a lie.” 

 

For someone who had just been crying, Yanjun speaks calmly, showing no signs of hesitance. He watches as Zhangjing’s eyes widen for a brief moment before the other shifts away from him, his eyes downcast.

 

Yanjun thinks that he might have finally crossed the line he had been trying his hardest to not cross. The line that would change his entire relationship with Zhangjing, one that would affect both their conditions in the few remaining days before the finals. Despite a tiny part of him being hopeful, he chides himself silently and quickly recovers to apologize, saying he did not mean his words.

 

“Really?” There is a tinge of relief in Zhangjing’s voice that makes Yanjun glad that he had retracted his words sooner, but there is also an underlying disappointment in the other’s single word that makes him hesitate to confirm his earlier words.

 

Zhangjing shifts in his spot and repeats his question again, biting his lower lip and then looking at Yanjun. The younger boy’s breath hitches at the look in Zhangjing’s eyes: a certain fragility the other did not usually show to others, coupled with an unknown longing.

 

Perhaps that is all it needed for Yanjun’s resolve to finally break, or perhaps it was the way Zhangjing asked him again — complete with a slight lean towards Yanjun and a little pout to top it off. The younger boy reaches to gently hold Zhangjing’s face in his hands and says: “No, I’m sorry, but I do want to hear it.”

 

“It’s rare to see you being so indecisive,” Zhangjing says softly. 

 

“You bring out the best in me, I guess?” Yanjun still finds it in himself to joke, despite his racing heart.

 

“So, even if it’s a lie?” The older boy confirms.

 

Yanjun spends a few seconds pondering before nodding. “Even if it’s a lie. I can live with that till the finals are over.”

 

“I thought you hated lies.”

 

“And I thought I could wait to hear an honest answer from you, but thinking you could like someone else, thinking I might never know - it’s killing me. I prefer to settle for a lie if that’s what it takes to help me focus,” Yanjun confesses. “I feel so lost right now, seeking for an answer I don’t need but desperately want.”

 

Zhangjing has never heard the other confess to feeling lost before. Seeing Yanjun so fragile yet trying so hard to open up to him pains Zhangjing but stirs his already chaotic emotions up even more, so he reaches to brush the other’s fringe aside, leaving a soft kiss on the younger boy’s forehead after.

 

“Unfortunately, I hate lying when it comes to things like these,” Zhangjing says, watching disappointment seep into Yanjun’s eyes. “So I’d just like to tell you the truth.”

 

“No, don’t,” Yanjun reaches to place his hand over Zhangjing’s mouth but the older boy reaches to hold it away, saying: “I don’t have anyone I like, at least, not that I am absolutely certain of — so perhaps not in the same way you feel for me.”

 

Upon his words, Yanjun stops trying to reach for him, letting his arms fall limply in Zhangjing’s hold.

 

“The truth is: I’m too scared to think about it, about whether I feel a certain special way for anyone because we might all be separated soon. Without even knowing if I’ll debut, I feel guilty spending time on thought like those.”

 

Yanjun nods, lowering his gaze and feeling his mind go blank. He could not bear looking into Zhangjing’s eyes any longer. The sincerity and resolve in the other’s eyes as he told him the truth. Truth that Yanjun could not argue with, facts that he already knew. Still, that did not mean he had to instantly come to terms with it. 

 

Only because he could  **not** .

 

“There’s only one thing I’m certain of,” the older boy continues, and Yanjun lifts his gaze to see a gentle one directed back at him. “That is, I like being with you. That it feels unreasonably upsetting when we’re separated. That I love it when we hold hands.”

 

Yanjun feels a smile tugging at his lips when Zhangjing pauses before adding: “That I love it when we kiss.” The older boy looks down immediately after saying so but Yanjun does not miss the blush that had spread across the other’s cheeks. 

 

“I wish I could tell you I like you, to ease your uncertainty. But at this point, I’m not sure if those feelings are impulsive, if they are mere reactions, or something more — and I don’t want to lead you on. I’m sorry. As someone who wants to be your wall, to be your pillar of support, I want to keep our most important priorities in mind, and this is the best I can do for you now, Lin Yanjun.”

 

Even though Yanjun is beaming at him, Zhangjing asks the other if he is upset. 

 

Even though Yanjun knows he is grinning, he nods and tells the older boy that he isn’t doing much as his wall, despite his earlier bravado.

 

Even though Zhangjing knows the younger boy is just teasing him, he plays along and asks what he could do to redeem himself and fulfill the promise of his words.

 

“Do you even need to ask?” Yanjun shakes his head and leans over to Zhangjing, backing the shorter boy up against the wall. As they have been under the top bunk for quite some time, being in the enclosed space had increasingly become uncomfortable. Yet when Zhangjing giggles as his lips draw close to the other’s, Yanjun is once again reminded of the fact that You Zhangjing is someone who miraculously manages to brighten up the darkest moments in his life.

 

* * *

 

Chaoze sits across Zhangjing, fuming and eating his dinner aggressively, huffing and rolling his eyes up whenever their gazes lock. 

 

On Zhangjing’s left, Dinghao snickers every now and then, only to stop to take a bite of food before bursting into another fitful of silent laughs. On Zhangjing’s right, Yanjun is as nonchalant as ever — or rather, as nonchalant as ever except for when a smirk would suddenly appear on his face. 

 

Biting his lower lip, Zhangjing looks pleadingly at Linong who is seated beside Chaoze.

 

The younger vocalist merely smiles helplessly at him in return.

 

After all, he isn’t feeling as upset as Chaoze is, even though he could understand the other’s frustrations just slightly. Then again, he was not the one who worried over Yanjun and Zhangjing’s absence when dinner began, not the one who searched for them throughout the recording building, all the way back to the dorms — only to find the two making out, the rest of the world forgotten.

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing is a master at coaxing, so Chaoze soon begins talking to him again. Yanjun does not mind either way, but Zhangjing prefers it so — only because Chaoze would glare at them both whenever Yanjun stared off into the distance and smirked for no apparent reason.

 

“Cut it out,” Zhangjing nudges Yanjun during their post-dinner practice break. 

 

“Cut what out?” Yanjun moves to grab two bottles of water and purposely bumps into Zhangjing when he returns, just so he can feel the other against him. 

 

Furious but blushing, the older boy swipes at Yanjun. “That! And the constant smirking! It took so long to get Chaoze talking to me again.” Yanjun grin and shrugs, opening his bottle to take a long gulp. When he sees Zhangjing struggling to open his own, he offers his bottle.

 

Zhangjing hesitates to take it — only because there is only a quarter left, but Yanjun does not let the chance to tease him slip. “Why? Shy to drink from my bottle even though we’ve kissed countless times before?”

 

The shorter boy immediately glares at him and reaches to hit him but Yanjun avoids it, feeling more thrilled knowing that there is a huge grin on his own face. From the other side of the practice room, Ling Chao comments that Zhangjing is still very energetic despite the long practice session. In his attempt to retort, the older vocalist loses focus and trips.

 

There are a few surprised shouts but Zhangjing ends up in Yanjun’s timely grip. Ling Chao retracts his words and loudly states that older people should rest properly while they can, earning himself a mouthful of snappy replies from Zhangjing. Yanjun smiles fondly at the furious boy in his embrace, enjoying the feeling of being able to hold onto the other as much as he can — especially if he can do it in front of others. 

 

Especially Wenjun. 

 

The other vocalist is looking their way, but there is no spite in his gaze. In fact, the side of Wenjun’s lips are lifted into a subtle smile. Yanjun wonders if he is just happy to see Zhangjing being this energetic, or if there are certain things he does not know.

 

At that moment, Zhangjing grabs Yanjun’s hands to free himself from the taller boy’s hold, breaking Yanjun’s train of thoughts. The older boy marches over to Ling Chao — who stands up from his spot to escape the other’s wrath.

 

Chaoze chooses that time to end their break, saying that if they had the energy to be running around, they could perfect the final bit of the choreography and call it a night. Everyone agrees: partly because everyone is already exhausted, but more because their focus is already dwindling due to the anxiety of their transfer to a new location the next day.

 

* * *

 

Not many sleep early that night.

 

Trainees move from room to room, jumping from conversation to conversation, as if doing so will allow them to keep all their memories of the past few months intact forever. 

 

As if doing so will keep them safe from the impending fact that only nine of them will walk away at the end with their dreams realized.

 

Yanjun does not feel the same since he was never much of a talker to begin with. Despite trying his best to sleep, he had not been able to drift into slumber the slightest and soon gives up. Slipping out of bed and up the ladder, he watches Zhangjing’s sleeping form, wondering if he should wake the other or if he should snuggle next to the older boy despite his fear of heights.

 

Before he comes to a conclusion, Zhangjing shifts in his sleep and turns to look at him. Without a trace of sleep in his eyes, the older boy smirks and says that it is creepy to watch someone else sleep. Yanjun huffs and makes his way back towards the floor, claiming that he had heard Zhangjing calling for him in his sleep. “I was just checking up on you. I guess good deeds aren’t repaid in kindness after all,” he laments in fake disappointment. 

 

There is a rustle of sheets before Zhangjing peers down the side of his bunk with a smile. “I apologize for taking your kindness for granted, Mr. Lin. What can I do to make up for it?”

 

Even though Yanjun wants to keep the frown on his face, he can’t help but beam up at the older boy. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

 

Zhangjing raises an eyebrow at him and puts on an exaggerated look of shock upon hearing his words.

 

“At this hour?”

 

“In this weather?”

 

“Shouldn’t we sleep?”

 

“Sure, let’s go.”

 

The overjoyed laugh that escapes Yanjun’s lips is unintended, but the younger boy does not mind. He moves to grab a change of clothes and passes Zhangjing’s to him when he climbs down the ladder. “Let’s change quickly and head out.”

 

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Zhangjing eyes him suspiciously. “And why are you taking off your clothes here?!”

 

“It’s not like we’ve never changed in the same room before,” Yanjun replies, trying to hide his amusement under a nonchalant facade.

 

“We have but, but that was when we were desperately rushing to go out!” Zhangjing grabs his clothes from Yanjun and rush into the small attached bathroom, locking the door behind him. There is no need for him to glance at the mirror to know that his face is flushed and he rests his back on the door, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

 

Yanjun was right, it wasn’t the first time they had changed in the same room. Yet since their little dating facade, Zhangjing could no longer look at their relationship in the same way anymore. Especially with the younger boy’s confessions and actions — especially after their few but intoxicating kisses. 

 

Zhangjing feels too much like a teenager even though he often claims to be one: supposedly younger, carefree, filled with big dreams with the courage and opportunities to take on the world. Yet with his current feelings, he can’t help but worry.

 

For not being the one between the both of them to be more grounded, to direct their focus back into their careers instead of each other. He wants to enjoy whatever he has with Yanjun to the fullest, to soar to its limits and experience everything it has to offer, to drown in it and let it engulf him in an unfamiliar calmness.

 

Yet he finds himself guilty for even thinking so.

 

Still, when Yanjun had broken down earlier that day, when the other had revealed such a fragile side of himself to him — Zhangjing had swept away all rational thoughts and guilt for a moment to indulge in his own wishes. Hopefully, indulging Yanjun’s too.

 

When he hears knocks on the door, Zhangjing jumps and loses his train of thoughts. “Give me a minute!” He informs Yanjun, changing hastily.

 

Halfway through pulling the hoodie over himself, Zhangjing pauses and asks his reflection: “Did he just call me... baby?”

 

* * *

 

That night, Yanjun walks with purpose, unlike their aimless walks before that served to lengthen their time together. Bundled in their winter coats and scarfs — because Zhangjing did not want to risk his throat getting weak right before the finals — the older boy does his best to keep up with Yanjun’s long strides.

 

“Lin Yanjun!” He calls for the other to slow down as he shivers slightly from the night chill. “Can you take pity on people like me who have shorter legs? Not everyone is blessed with long legs like you are.”

 

“Scared I’ll walk off and leave you alone?” Yanjun teases, offering his hand. “Here, hold on.”

 

“Who’s scared? I know my way around here well enough,” Zhangjing softly slaps Yanjun’s hand away and stuffs his own cold ones into the pockets of his coat. Unfazed, Yanjun merely grins in response, taking a few steps back to stand next to Zhangjing. 

 

Upon seeing the look on Yanjun’s face, Zhangjing knows that the other has unspoken intentions and is about to ask. However, before he gets to do so, Yanjun’s hand is already in his pocket, wrapping warmly around his own.

 

Suddenly feeling warmed to the bones, Zhangjing is rendered momentarily speechless and obediently follows Yanjun’s lead. A familiar patio comes into view after a short while, one that held memories the younger boy held very dear. Memories that are few, but greatly precious.

 

Memories of them flirting, of Zhangjing telling him that he is  **_perfect_ ** , of Yanjun first kissing Zhangjing’s forehead. 

 

“Here again?” Zhangjing hops up the few steps and moves to lean on the wooden railing. 

 

“Would you prefer some other place?” Yanjun asks, joining him. The older boy turns to look at him before humming and looking towards the night sky. “That depends on what we’re going to do. I thought we were just going for a walk?”

 

“That was the intention until I was reminded of this place,” Yanjun explains. He does not tell Zhangjing that it was because the older boy’s lips had looked rather rosy in the chilly night, reminding him of their kiss, stirring up temptations within him and thus wanting to be somewhere more private. “Do you not like this place?”

 

The other hums again, grabbing onto the railing and letting his body lean back. When his gaze moves from the sky to rest on Yanjun, there is a playful grin on his face. “I’m alright, but it seems that you’re rather fond of it. Is there a reason why?”

 

_ Because it could have been the first time we kissed.  _

 

_ It feels like a lost opportunity I can’t quite move on from. _

 

“Maybe,” he pauses for a long moment to test Zhangjing’s impatience, watching the other lean subtly closer in anticipation. “Maybe because you were very generous with compliments when my part for the center audition was shown.

 

Zhangjing’s eyebrows knit together immediately as soon as he hears Yanjun’s answer. “What kind of reason is that! That doesn’t even make sense, Lin Yanjun!”

 

The younger boy chuckles at his outburst and lets the other rain complaints on him until all is quiet again. He then takes a deep breath and says: “I’m sorry for overreacting earlier.”

 

Surprise crosses Zhangjing’s face but does not last long, melting into a warm smile. “I’m sorry for raising my voice too.” 

 

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

 

“Only if you’ll forgive me.”

 

“Already done,” Yanjun replies and cannot stop himself from adding that he was rather scared when Zhangjing raised his voice. “I like it so much better when you’re adorable than when you’re fierce.”

 

Chuckling at the younger boy’s choice of words at a time like this, Zhangjing says thanks to both statements. They then fall back into a peaceful silence after their apologies, smiles on their faces as they look towards the night sky. Yanjun is thankful for their mutual understanding to resolve at least this one conflict quickly and without hassle.

 

In the hushed chill, he thinks that perhaps they were both tired of unsaid words and bottled feelings. In actuality, it had not been that long since they first pretended to date — but Yanjun feels like an important part of his youth has been squeezed into those days. There are still some things he wants to tell Zhangjing, he thinks, but at least the important ones have already been voiced: some nicely and some in a less-than-elegant manner, but spoken all the same.

 

It is good enough for Yanjun, who felt as if many burdens have been lifted. Even though he still feels the pressure of the finals, even though his heart still stings from how his father still regards him as, even though he still wonders if he will make a great center — it is good enough.

 

Good enough to know that Zhangjing enjoys their moments together: that he will be with him all the way during the finals, that this one person who means so much to him supports him greatly, that the one person he thinks is the best vocalist he has ever trained with — thinks he will definitely be great as a center. 

 

Zhangjing is swaying back and forth, his hands grasping the railing tightly. The younger boy sneaks a look at his face to see the other’s eyes closed, his lips lifted into a satisfied smile.  

 

“Zhangjing, look, shooting stars.”

 

The older boy’s eyes snap open immediately and he scans the night sky from left to right. “Where?”

 

“Over there, but I think you missed them both already.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you just made it up…” Zhangjing huffs. “No one mentioned anything about meteors at all. And two? Are there such coincidences? Or should I say miracles?”

 

“Just believe me and make your wishes.”

 

Even though You Zhangjing responds with a skeptical gaze, he obediently closes his eyes after and folds his hands together to two wishes. Next to him, Lin Yanjun smiles and mirrors his actions. 

 

When he is done, Yanjun nudges Zhangjing. “You know, I’ve heard that if you’re wishing on a shooting star next to the person you like, chances of it coming true are higher.”

 

“I’ve never heard that… Lin Yanjun, stop with the bluffing!”

 

“I’m serious. They even say that kissing right after making a wish increases its chances of coming true. It’s like sealing your wish with a kiss.”

 

“Do you really think I’d fall for that?” Zhangjing laughs and shakes his head. The taller boy shrugs and grins, not wanting to admit to it. However, he feels Zhangjing grabbing the front of his coat a second later, tiptoeing as he pulled to shorten the distance between them both.

 

Yanjun almost laughs, only because he is amused and overjoyed at Zhangjing’s initiative. After all, actions spoke louder than words. He would consider this as the other screaming his feelings into the silent night when compared to his usual mellowness. 

 

Still, Lin Yanjun is someone who holds on to little things of the past. 

 

Wanting to claim the kiss he had shied away from previously, he reaches to rest his hands on Zhangjing’s shoulders, stopping the other from leaning any further towards him. At the look of disappointed shock on Zhangjing’s face, Yanjun feels a guilty and rather wicked sense of satisfaction. 

 

“Now you know how it feels to be denied of a kiss,” he teases, holding tightly onto Zhangjing’s shoulders when the other moves to get away out of spite.

 

“Lin Yanjun!” Zhangjing huffs and struggles to get out of the taller boy’s grip. “You’re mean! I don’t know why I like spending time with you so much!”

 

Putting on an unconvincing face of hurt, the taller boy lowers his arms to circle around Zhangjing’s waist, pulling them close once more. The last thing Yanjun sees before he closes his eyes to press their lips together is Zhangjing’s closed eyes, his fair cheeks blanketed by a rosy blush. The older boy’s eyes are closed tight — seemingly more enthusiastic than usual, complete with a slight tiptoe so that their lips are separated with less distance.

 

Yanjun kisses Zhangjing a little fiercer that night, not only so that he can match the other’s desire; but also because he is happy to have his memories at the patio ending on a delightful note. 

 

When they break away from the kiss, Zhangjing is panting slightly, his eyes dazed and his thoughts scattered in the winter breeze. 

 

“I hope you’ll find out why one day,” Yanjun says, but Zhangjing’s mind does not register his words as a reply to his earlier statement. 

 

_ If you do, there is a higher probability of my wishes coming true. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO MY LOVELY FELLOW ZDJ FRIENDS I HAVE MISSED YOU ALL ♥
> 
> So, this is it! One more chapter and To Quit Smoking will end :’)  
> (Or two chapters, if I unintentionally get long-winded again… hopefully not!)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this far and for waiting for my updates! To be honest, I’ve thought of taking a break from writing for a few months due to work stress, but I’m glad I didn’t. Doing that would probably mean I’ll never finish this, and I personally want to know everyone’s thoughts when the final chapter is done! Many thanks to my beta-reading fairy [sunspritecyj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspritecyj) for being with me all the way too! 
> 
> When I’m feeling stressed, I refrain from writing and prefer to draft, so if you’d like to chip your two cents in for possible future fics of mine, do look me up on [Twitter @zhan9jun](https://twitter.com/zhan9jun)! :D My DMs are always open for ZhangJun screaming too ♥


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy anniversary to my precious babies You Zhangjing, Lin Yanjun and Nine Percent!
> 
> Even though I said that, I do find it slightly hard to believe that it’s been a year since their debut — a year since ZhangJun’s legendary hug! I hope the remainder of 2019 will have better things in store for them, individually, together, and especially more as a group!
> 
> As always, thank you dearest Belle for beta reading ♥ And to all of you who have been waiting for the update, thank you, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“Where’s Zhangjing?”

 

Staring back at seven pairs of inquisitive eyes, Yanjun stops in his tracks as soon as he opens the door to the common room.

 

“He’s not feeling well,” Yanjun answers. He realizes that he might have come off as too fierce when a few of his fellow trainees shrink back. Chaoze doesn’t, and asks for more details instead. “He’s running a fever,” Yanjun adds, trying not to sound _too_ impatient. “I’m heading out.”

 

Chaoze calls after him, wanting to know where he is headed — but Yanjun is already sprinting down the stairs, past the main doors of their dorm into the freezing winter air. For a split second, Lin Yanjun wonders if his goal is worth braving the weather for, but he quickly comes to an answer.

 

Gritting his teeth, he walks quickly to the nearest pharmacy. He spends barely five minutes inside, sprinting back to the dorm before the pharmacist can pass him his receipt.

 

It does not occur to him that his mind is only filled with thoughts of getting back to his sick roommate, at least, not until he bumps into Chaoze who informs him that their dance teacher is looking for him. “He wants to see you right now,” the other informs, frowning when Yanjun glares at him. “What’s gotten into you? He’s been looking for you since you went out earlier, don’t keep him waiting… and stop glaring at me! I’m just the messenger!”

 

“Give me a minute,” Yanjun’s expression softens — or at least, he tries to soften it as much as he can before bolting towards his shared room.

 

The door is locked when he tries to open it, so he knocks and calls out softly to Zhangjing.

 

There is no reply after a while and Yanjun wonders if his roommate is asleep, or worse — unconscious. His next knocks are more frantic, until an anxious ‘wait’ is heard. The younger boy taps his foot impatiently until the door opens to reveal a half-asleep and entirely disheveled Zhangjing.

 

“Yanjun? Shouldn’t you be at practice?”

 

It isn’t a difficult question to answer, but Yanjun is distracted by the sickly flush on Zhangjing’s face. To make matters worse, it seemed that Zhangjing had rushed to answer the door right out of a shower: his hair still damp and his shirt lopsided to show the milky skin of his shoulder.

 

A jumble of thoughts rush to the front of Yanjun’s mind, fighting to be voiced.

 

_‘Why didn’t you dry your hair? You’re not going to get well if you don’t take care of little things like this.’_

 

_‘Why aren’t you wearing your shirt properly?’_

 

_‘I should be at practice but I’m here because you’re sick.’_

 

Before Yanjun is able to decide on which to first say, Chaoze’s voice is heard from the other end of the hallway. He then hears Chaoze complaining to someone else — Dinghao, Yanjun recognizes — saying he is going to get into trouble if Yanjun does not see their teacher as soon as possible.

 

“Take this,” Yanjun shoves the bag of medicine into Zhangjing’s chest. “Eat them.”

 

The older boy has barely registered the contents of the bag before Yanjun turns and leaves. He closes the door and rummages through to find all sorts of pills in it. Chuckling weakly, he realizes that the younger boy had bought every possible medicine for him, possibly because he had no idea what Zhangjing was down with.

 

As the teacher lectures Yanjun on not telling him before missing practice, Yanjun wonders if he had bought enough medicine. Apologizing and accepting his punishment of doing laps around the building — Yanjun realizes that he does not even feel wronged or angry in the slightest.

 

He realizes that when it comes to You Zhangjing, he is more than willing to do many things.

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Zhangjing?”

 

Upon hearing the name, Yanjun jolts awake from his unintended nap, a sense of déjà vu washing over him as the remnants of sleep ebb away. Chaoze is looking at him, hands on his hips while shaking his head. “How could you both not wake up from all the commotion?”

 

Frowning, Yanjun takes a look around the bus. Half the bus is already empty, while the remaining trainees shuffle about to alight.

 

Next to him, Zhangjing is still fast asleep. They had both fallen asleep as soon as the ride began, their conversation quickly softening into light snores. During the journey, Zhangjing’s head had found its way to Yanjun’s shoulder and the younger boy feels his heart swell upon the late realization.

 

“Wake Zhangjing and be down soon, alright?” Chaoze instructs before turning to leave.

 

Managing a sound of understanding, Yanjun looks down at the person leaning against him. Zhangjing’s face is close: close enough for Yanjun to see the soft shadow casted by the other’s eyelashes on his cheeks, close enough for him to brush his lips over the other’s — but he does not.

 

Instead, he calls the other softly, watching the older boy frown before his eyes fluttered open.

 

“Good morning,” Yanjun greets and then informs, “we’ve arrived.”

 

“Tired,” is Zhangjing’s reply before his eyes close again. Yanjun does not know if the other realizes that his head is still rested upon his shoulder when Zhangjing shuffles to be closer, his face positioned so that his breaths now tickled the younger boy’s neck.

 

Yanjun feels the sides of his lips lifting automatically, but quickly forces his smile to falter when he hears someone clearing his throat beside him. Turning in panic, he sees a cheeky grin on Linong’s face as the other wriggles his eyebrows at the sight of them. Before words slip off Yanjun’s tongue, Linong already makes his way past them, after patting the older boy’s shoulder.

 

Tapping Zhangjing’s cheek with his index finger, Yanjun whispers for the other to wake up. “We’ve already been scolded, come on,” he urges half-heartedly, shaking the other gently. Zhangjing mumbles something incoherent in sleepy protest and snuggles closer to the younger boy instead. It is an unconscious action, but still manages to make Yanjun’s heart skip a few beats.

 

Glancing around to make sure that no one else is around anymore, Yanjun leans to whisper: “Zhangjing, if you don’t wake up, I’m going to kiss you.”

 

The other mumbles a dare to kiss him before complaining that it is too noisy. Yanjun does not think his words even registered in the other’s mind, but cups Zhangjing’s face anyway, suddenly feeling bold at the opportunity.

 

However, when Zhangjing’s eyes open right before their lips meet, Yanjun feels his courage disappear in the blink of an eye and they end up staring at each other: one in surprise and the other in slight disappointment. Clearing their throats simultaneously, Yanjun repeats that they have arrived and should get off the bus and Zhangjing nods frantically in response.

 

Scrambling for their luggage, they both get off the bus soon after.

 

From a short distance away, Linong looks at the pair and shakes his head at their flushed cheeks, wondering if he should tease them or leave them be.

 

* * *

 

Their new accommodation is a triple-story mansion, complete with a little garden centered around a fountain and dotted with winter-kissed trees. The first floor looks fancier than their previous dorm at first glance, eliciting much excitement among them.

 

The mansion is also much closer to where the finals will be held, shortening their commute time, much to the trainees’ joy. It meant more time to rest — that is, if they could actually slip in some time to do so.

 

“There are a few bedrooms, each different in size, so take a look and choose among yourselves,” a staff mentions before hurrying them up. “But leave all your luggage here for now, it is time to head for practice.”

 

Thus, they are barely settled into their new accommodation before they are rushed out. Before the finals, they are scheduled to have a fanmeet, and the trainees are abuzz with excitement for it: something less stressful than the finals, but still on a grander scale than their usual performances.

 

They are to perform songs from previous stages, but in new groups. Yanjun joins Zhangjing for the I Will Always Remember stage, much to their unspoken joy. There is new choreography to accommodate the new members, and when the two are assigned to hold hands during Yanjun’s part, the younger tries not to look too pleased while the older coughs in attempt to hide his flushed cheeks.

 

In truth, their fingers are barely intertwined for a minute. Or even thirty seconds. However, that does not help Yanjun suppress the pleasure bubbling within him— that he gets to hold Zhangjing’s hand in front of others.

 

Not just in the pocket of his winter jacket, nor on evening walks that only the two of them knew about.

 

Zhangjing’s hand is still small in his: soft, warm and feeling of home.

 

Their practice is utterly exhausting, but Yanjun feels energized despite so.

 

Before the end of the day, they are briefed on the schedule of the fanmeet, and then fed some details about the finals. Yanjun glances at Zhangjing, who seems to be trying his best to register every word and information. The older boy looks adorable trying to focus in his tired state: his eyes squinting and his lips curve into a cute frown.

 

Yanjun ends up not hearing much of the details by the time they are done.

 

Sent back after a quick and late dinner, the trainees enter the mansion in an exhausted daze. Unlike when they first moved into the Idol Producer dorms, there is no huge fuss when choosing rooms. In fact, there is barely an excited chatter. The truth is obvious: everyone wanted to just get it over with and head to sleep.

 

Zhangjing watches as Ling Chao automatically moves towards Ziyang; as the Yehua boys group together to see if a certain room is big enough for all of them — and he realizes that when one is tired, they just gravitate towards those they are most comfortable with.

 

Who they want to be with.

 

He feels at a sudden loss, not knowing who he should move towards. Zhangjing did not want to make anyone else feel as if he did not want to be with them, not wanting anyone to feel left out — even though his legs are already moving towards Dinghao, Chaoze, and Yanjun.

 

They take a brief knowing look at each other and head towards a room, only to find out that there is only a king-sized bed in it.

 

Dinghao makes a look of dramatic shock and checks the next room, reporting back that there are two single beds there before hurriedly moving his bag over. “I’m not going to share a bed with any of you,” he bids before disappearing into the room, leaving the three to look at each other.

 

As the leader of eight other boys, Chaoze is used to being very selfless. However, before he can offer sharing the bed with anyone, Yanjun says: “I’ll share the bed with Zhangjing.”

 

At the mention of his name, Zhangjing’s eyes widen and he suddenly feels much less sleepy.

 

“You are?” He asks, then shakes his head. “I am?”

 

“Yes, I am,” Yanjun replies, the side of his lips lifting. “Aren’t you?”

 

“Um, I guess? I mean, are you alright with it?” Zhangjing’s head tilts, not quite registering his own words.

 

“Are you two sharing the bed or not?” Chaoze interjects in annoyance, glaring at them both. “It is **so** tragically difficult to get decent sleep around here.” Yanjun has an inkling of what he is actually referring to, but makes no additional remark. Instead, he grabs his luggage and enters the room, not waiting to see who would follow him.

 

* * *

 

Considering how tired they both are, Yanjun and Zhangjing had both expected to fall asleep sooner.

 

Neither had thought they would still be staring at the muted white ceiling of the room, both lying on their backs and fully aware that the other is still awake, despite having crawled into bed almost half an hour earlier.

 

“Is it not dark enough?” Yanjun’s question is soft. The curtains are thick, but not enough to drown the room in darkness. Knowing Zhangjing’s sleeping habit, the younger boy had guessed that he would not have fallen asleep so easily.

 

The older boy makes a sound of confirmation and sighs. “I’m exhausted but I’m so anxious for the finals, it’s not helping. I’m going to look like a zombie on that day.”

 

“I’m not sure if I should feel insulted for you or the zombie,” Yanjun comments, aware that he is smiling at conversation.

 

“Why would you feel sorry for the zombie?” Zhangjing asks, sounding incredulous despite his tiredness.

 

“Because it can’t even be compared to you,” Yanjun explains matter-of-factly. “No matter what kind of horrible state you might fall into.”

 

The older boy takes a while to reply, his voice deadpan: “...is that a compliment?”

 

“...yes.”

 

Zhangjing’s response is a hearty laugh, followed by a light squeeze on Yanjun’s arm. “You’re very weird sometimes, Lin Yanjun.”

 

“...is that a compliment?”

 

The older boy’s laugh fills the room again, his fingers holding onto Yanjun’s arm tighter. “If you want it to be!”

 

Yanjun honestly does not mind either way, as long as Zhangjing’s fingers stay where they are. But they don’t, Zhangjing’s grip slowly loosening and slipping away from Yanjun’s skin.

 

Feeling like a fish slipping out of water, Yanjun does the first - and admittedly childish - thing that comes to his mind: he tells Zhangjing that he overheard the staff saying that the mansion seemed to be haunted.

 

A wicked satisfaction unfurls in Yanjun’s chest as he watches Zhangjing’s eyes widen, the other shuffling to be closer to him as he questions why Yanjun would tell him so right now. It does not seem like the older boy is looking for an answer, however, as he merely goes on and on about how he had heard it too but it never really registered since they had been rushing around for their rehearsal.

 

Zhangjing’s voice soon becomes weak and Yanjun realizes that the other is _crying_.

 

“Oh no,” Yanjun hears his own voice crack. “I’m so sorry, Zhangjing. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just-”

 

“You’re mean!” Zhangjing states before sobbing and pressing himself impossibly closer to Yanjun. In that moment, the younger boy thinks that it is a perfect example of a guilty pleasure. Half of him hates that Zhangjing is terrified and wants to chase his fears away, but the other half of him is enjoying their proximity too much to bother.

 

Stuck between wanting to further comfort Zhangjing and letting the other continue squeezing against him, Yanjun hesitates and allows the other’s complaint-laced sobs fill his ears. Unable to see Zhangjing’s face since it is pushed into the skin below his neck, Yanjun moves to wrap an arm around the shorter boy instead. As he pulls Zhangjing closer, he feels the other shivering as he cried and Yanjun’s heart aches.

 

“I’ll be here, Zhangjing. You don’t have to worry. No matter what it is, I’ll be right beside you,” Yanjun coaxes after a while, his heart no longer able to withstand hearing the other’s prolonged cries. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, at least not n-”

 

To his surprise, Zhangjing replies that it is fine and tells him not to apologize further. “You’re mean, but… I needed that.”

 

“Needed…?”

 

“To cry, I mean.” Zhangjing moves away to lie on his back, his eyes closed and a small smile gracing his tear-stricken face. Breathing out a sound of relief, he softly explains that he feels better after crying. “I’ve been so anxious from thinking about the finals, I feel like a time bomb waiting to explode — and I honestly prefer it to be now than on the day itself.”

 

With the distance between them, Yanjun regains slightly more control over his thoughts and desires. He watches as Zhangjing’s chest rise and fall, watches the other’s eyelash flutter as his eyes opened only to close again.

 

“I’m sorry,” Yanjun apologizes again, putting in a lot more effort to sound sincere this time. “Regardless of whether you needed it or not, it was mean of me to scare you like that.”

 

Zhangjing’s eyes open and he turns to look at Yanjun with a smile. “You being earnest so abruptly is even scarier.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because then I wo-” Catching himself in time, Zhangjing does not finish explaining.

 

“Because then, you...?” Yanjun tries coaxing the other to continue, but Zhangjing does not give in. The older boy looks adorable whenever he has set his mind to do something, so the younger chuckles, reminded of a distant memory.

 

“What’s so funny?” Zhangjing asks, slightly fierce but all the more curious.

 

“Remember the few months after we first met? You were so scared of me that you didn’t even want to come close to me.”

 

“That’s not true!” Zhangjing protests immediately. “Why are you suddenly bringing that up? Let me tell you, I was **not** scared and had **no** problems being around you!”

 

Yanjun laughs aloud this time. “You haven’t changed,” he says, “you obviously held back from approaching me then, I thought we’d spent the rest of our trainee days without talking to each other. But you had a fire in you that burned so brightly and fiercely, so I did hope otherwise.”

 

“I wasn’t holding back from approaching you...” Zhangjing interjects weakly.

 

“But then you spoke up that time when I was punished for ordering delivery, saying that I had done so because of your request — that if I was getting punished, you should too.”

 

“Well, you did offer the food and I did want it...”

 

“I ordered and said I’d split it if you guys wanted it later, it wasn’t because of anyone’s request,” Yanjun emphasizes. “So I honestly didn’t expect anyone to say anything, but you did. You Zhangjing — who looked like he would cry if I just talked to him in a fiercer tone — spoke up and said he would join me in running laps, even though he was already beyond exhausted from practicing that day.”

 

Zhangjing giggles at Yanjun’s words and the memory, his fingers instinctively seeking out Yanjun’s arm to hold onto the other gently. “Did you think I was that meek? Were you looking down on me?”

 

Yanjun clicks his tongue. “How in the world did you manage to interpret my words that way? It was a compliment!”

 

Giggling in reply, Zhangjing’s grip on Yanjun’s arm tightens — the action tightening the invisible grip over Yanjun’s heart as well.

 

“I know. I’m just,” Zhangjing pauses and frowns for a bit before his expression turns into one of embarrassment. “Stop being so abruptly earnest.”

 

Even though Yanjun wants to continue being so — just to see how embarrassed Zhangjing can get — he thinks that he should be kind and tells the other that he wants to just say one more thing.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I’m thankful that you spoke up back then, that you decided to run laps with me. That we grew closer from then on, that you’ve always been by my side since — that we’re both here now. That I am horribly anxious about the finals, but you being right next to me now gives me a lot of strength. And...”

 

_I love you._

 

“And?” Zhangjing asks after Yanjun goes silent for a long while, the other looking at him with a certain look that he can’t quite decipher.

 

“And,” Yanjun finally whispers, his fingers finding the ones Zhangjing has left on his arm. “Goodnight.”

 

If Zhangjing finds his reply strange, he does not voice it.

 

Instead, the shorter boy snuggles up to Yanjun as he finally surrenders to slumber, whispering a soft ‘goodnight’ in return.

 

When Yanjun wakes up early the next morning, Zhangjing is pressed up against his arm and the younger boy feels himself grinning and melting at the sight. Being careful as to not wake the other, he checks the time and allows himself five more minutes to stay like that before shaking the other awake.

 

He allows Zhangjing’s sleepy smile and soft morning greeting to be imprinted onto his mind, a moment he revisits often as they go through their hectic schedules up until the finals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned here and there that this would be the final chapter, but it became so long that I decided to split it into two. Sorry if this chapter didn’t seem as exciting, it’s because everything is packed into the next and definitely final chapter — that will be posted very, very, very soon — specifically on the 18th, which is To Quit Smoking’s one year anniversary! 
> 
> Please look forward to that, as I will be horribly busy in the next twelve months due to a new freelance project (gotta earn more to support my son Zhangjing and his boyfriend(s) after all) and won’t be able to spend much time on fics anymore. The last confirmed updates from me will be: one more chapter pf Wishes and the finale of To Quit Smoking!
> 
> Thank you so much for following this fic so far, I hope you’ll all enjoy the last chapter when it is posted in a few days :D 
> 
> For fic updates, or if you just want to talk to me about ZhangJun or Nine Percent, find me on Twitter @zhan9jun!


	13. Chapter 13

If his own anxiety was not suffocating enough, the tension in the arena definitely succeeded in overwhelming Yanjun’s entire being. Even though he briefly overcomes it with the adrenaline from performing, he soon sinks back into a sea of uncertainty and worry as the ranking announcements begin.

 

The first spot belongs to Linkai.

 

Hearing the other’s name, Yanjun is filled with a new wave of emotions: joy for the other, disappointment that it isn’t him, hope that there are still eight spots left.

 

Eight spots.

 

Enough for him and Zhangjing.

 

He shakes with anticipation and a hint of fear at the next name.

 

He feels happy for Ziyi, but a rush of dismay and wicked appreciation rushes into him at the same time. It wasn’t him, nor was it Zhangjing.

 

Even if they both didn’t make it, at least they would still have each other.

 

At least he would still have Zhangjing.

 

So he tries to squash his hopes lower. He tries hard and almost succeeds, but allows a small glimmer of faith to remain.

 

He ranks fifth.

 

Fifth, even though his prior rankings had not been close to that spot. 

 

Immediately, Yanjun feels light. Lifted into the clouds where the air is thin, his feet no longer on the ground as cheers erupt all around him, as others pat and hug him — he is dazed and everything is surreal.

 

Surreal, even as he moves up the stairs to stand on his spot, even when the remaining spots slowly fill up and Zhangjing’s name is  _ still not announced _ **_._ **

 

He whispers the other’s name like a wish before the ninth name is announced, over and over again like his life depended on it, as if it would really be Zhangjing if he wished hard enough. 

 

The ninth member is Wenjun and Yanjun feels his heart sink into a depth he did not imagine existed before. It hurts and hot tears sting his eyes, a physical manifestation of the despair and disappointment rushing to be expressed.

 

The camera shifts to Zhangjing’s face after a while, displaying the other’s expression on the huge screen: the other’s cheeks that are stained with tears, the other’s eyes that are red from holding back tears, the other’s trembling lips that is  **_still_ ** , despite everything, curved into a smile.

 

Because You Zhangjing did not like others seeing him sad, trying to be a pillar to everyone even when he crumbled inside.

 

Yanjun lets out a scream of agony — and opens his eyes to Zhangjing shaking him, a worried look on the other’s face. 

 

“It’s okay, Yanjun,” the other says, but Yanjun is half-awake and half-trapped in his nightmare still. Unable to comprehend the situation, he allows himself to be swallowed by the overwhelming emotions and continues to cry as Zhangjing pulls him into a hug and strokes his back, repeating over and over again that everything is okay.

 

“I’m here,” Zhangjing’s voice is soft and soothing, gently lifting Yanjun from the depths of his frantic emotions onto a warm shore. 

 

“You’re here,” Yanjun repeats, letting his head fall onto Zhangjing’s shoulder as he tries to pull himself together. He doesn’t know how long he cries in the dark, but he stops when sunlight begins to seep through the tiny space between the windows and the curtains. 

 

“Zhangjing,” Yanjun’s voice is weak and he reaches to touch the other’s cheek — just to make sure it isn’t another dream. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

The older boy looks at him with a mixture of confusion and pain before smiling. “You won’t. Just keep me in your heart, and I will, too.”

 

* * *

 

Neither of them bring up Yanjun’s nightmare.

 

Instead, they busy themselves with final preparations — trying to be in their best spirits on the sixth of April. Yanjun wants to remember it as a bright and sunny day, but the truth is, he had barely noticed the weather as they are ushered into designated preparation rooms. 

 

The other trainees had been invited back to join them, and the chatter works to lessen the tense atmosphere around them in the past few days. As their makeup is being done and as they are briefed over and over again, Yanjun makes sure to stay close to Zhangjing, just because the thought of being separated upsets him so much. 

 

However, it turns out that Yanjun does not have to put much effort into doing so; because Zhangjing makes it a point to linger close to him as well. With their nervousness skyrocketing, they don’t exchange many words, only offering smiles to each other whenever their gazes meet.

 

In fact, they are barely alone for Yanjun to voice the many thoughts in his head, so he keeps them to himself, not wanting to get caught up in unnecessary emotions.

 

It is only when they are lined up to go on stage in the dim hallway when Yanjun leans over to whisper: “All the best, Zhangjing. Please wait for me.” 

 

Zhangjing’s reply comes in the form of an abrupt hug: his hair tickling Yanjun’s chin before his lips brush upon the skin of Yanjun’s neck. 

 

The hug is gone as quickly as it came and Yanjun barely has time to ponder upon whether it was just his imagination when the staff start instructing them to take their places.

 

* * *

 

A heavy sense of déjà vu hangs upon Yanjun’s shoulders when the ranking announcement begins.

 

The first spot belongs to Linkai, like in his dream.

 

It fills Yanjun with a weird mix of excitement and unease.

 

Ziyi is next and Yanjun’s breath hitches.

 

When his name is announced for the fifth spot, Yanjun feels the familiar sensation of weightlessness. Lifted into a surreal space, barely able to feel his feet as cheers drowned his ears, as others moved to pat and hug him — he is dazed and everything is surreal, until a familiar hand reaches for him.

 

He is immediately grounded: realizing that it is Zhangjing.

 

Zhangjing’s body that is pressed against his, Zhangjing’s shoulder that his tears are spilling upon. The vocalist is saying something but Yanjun can’t quite hear them, he only feels the warm hands stroking his back like a few days before when he had woken from his nightmare and Yanjun sincerely prays that this isn’t another one.

 

Part of him doesn’t want Zhangjing to let go, but he is ushered out of the group anyway to take his place. Yanjun barely makes it to the end of the walkway before his legs give out. He kneels and he kisses the stage despite his usual reservations for cleanliness.

 

The stage is cold upon his lips and he is sure that it isn’t a dream.

 

Still, his legs don’t feel like they belong to him as he climbs the stairs to his spot after finishing his speech. He sits, only because he doesn’t have the strength to stand as the rest of the rankings are revealed.

 

It is exactly like his dream: Justin and Chengcheng announced after him, followed by Linong and Xukun in the running for the last two spots. 

 

Very soon, it is time for the ninth rank to be announced.

 

Yanjun watches as Zhangjing and Wenjun step forward, their hands seeking each other’s to give strength and comfort to each other. If he were any less worried, perhaps Yanjun might have felt jealous — but he merely whispers the other’s name like a wish, just like he had in his dream, over and over again like his life depended on it, wishing that the outcome would be different.

 

When Zhangjing’s name is announced, Yanjun feels the world fade for the briefest moment before his ears are filled with cheers: screams from the audience and his own exclamations. Watching as both of the boys are hugged and surrounded by the other trainees, Yanjun can’t help but wonder if he had heard wrong.

 

Even when Zhangjing walks towards his direction, the other’s eyes filled with tears but still wearing a beautiful smile, Yanjun can’t help but wonder if it is a dream. As Zhangjing climbs the steps, as the others reach out to hug him — as Yanjun’s own fingers yearn for the older boy — he hesitates. Biting his lip, he questions his perceptions again.

 

Would he wake up to a different, and perhaps less fortunate, reality?

 

He watches as the person of his affections is wrapped in hugs, first by Xukun, then Linong, and then Zhangjing soon turns to look at him. 

 

And begins to step towards him.

 

The other’s steps are slow and the adrenaline seems to ebb slightly away, his expression becoming one of relief. 

 

And gratefulness.

 

And home.

 

Immediately entangled within the look in Zhangjing’s bright eyes, Yanjun knows it can never be a dream. 

 

In that moment, the other looked too beautiful to exist only in a dream. If it were a dream, even with all of Yanjun’s overwhelming feelings for the other — Zhangjing would never look  _ this _ breathtaking. 

 

Radiant and warm and comforting.

 

For once, Yanjun doesn’t want to keep Zhangjing to himself only, but is glad that Zhangjing is there to continue shining for everyone else.

 

When Zhangjing almost reaches him, Yanjun only realizes that the sounds in the arena have already dulled long ago. That all he has been hearing is the quick beating of his own heart.

 

He doesn’t even remember the desire to hold the other until he feels Zhangjing’s arms find their way around him. With their bodies pressed together for the briefest moment, some of Yanjun’s senses rush back into him to at  _ least _ return the hug — to hold the other close, regardless of where they are and who is watching. 

 

Hearing his own heartbeat intertwined with Zhangjing’s, Yanjun forgets all the words he had wanted to say. 

 

Had he wanted to congratulate him? 

 

Had he wanted to express how thankful he is that Zhangjing would debut with him?

 

Or was it something else?

 

Feeling weak and barely functional, Yanjun racks his brain and blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind: “Just now, before I walked over here, I forgot to say that I’ll wait for you. Are you angry?”

 

Zhangjing giggles softly in response, amused that the younger boy is worried about something like that. Yanjun registers the other’s hands that are still on his back, the other’s eyes that are glimmering with traces of tears as he looked up into the younger boy’s eyes. 

 

“What to do, You Zhangjing, I forgot to say that I’ll be waiting for you,” Yanjun says, only because he is unable to think of anything else to say.

 

Shaking his head slightly, Zhangjing says he doesn’t mind. Perhaps he says something more, but Yanjun doesn’t quite catch the other’s words. Still, he whispers something in reply: perhaps repeating himself again, perhaps just meaningless sounds. He wonders if Zhangjing knows what he is saying, or if the other is also just speaking for the sake of replying. 

 

If the adrenaline was not enough to overwhelm Yanjun — Zhangjing’s eyes did. Bright and sparkling with tears, the younger boy surrenders himself to their mesmerizing pull, leaning closer as his own gaze lowered to the other’s lips.

 

Pink, soft, and if they were still the same as Yanjun remembers: warm and absolutely heavenly to feel upon his own.

 

A slight squeeze from Zhangjing halts him in his unintended action and Yanjun thinks dazedly about what would have happened if the older boy had not stopped him. He would have kissed the other there and then, in front of all those people.

 

It didn’t seem like  _ too bad _ of an idea.

 

When Zhangjing pulls away to look at him, Yanjun’s wonders if the other had panicked and his fingers instinctively curl to hold the other back. There is no sign of alarm on Zhangjing’s face, just the same teary eyes and relieved smile. His finger holding on tighter, Yanjun is struck with a sudden thought: that he will never be able to let Zhangjing go easily. 

 

Not before 

 

Not now.

 

Definitely not in a year’s time.

 

Perhaps, not even if their paths were to separate after, by some twisted fate.

 

Still, he releases Zhangjing, watching the other as he moved downwards, hugging the others on his way. Despite the many doubts and fears that lurked at the corners of his heart, Yanjun doesn’t feel afraid when the older boy walks further away.

 

Only because he knows that they will still be together after, for at least months to come.

 

* * *

 

The events after rush by Yanjun in a blur or excitement wrapped in surrealness: from walking offstage to the interviews after to the many congratulatory words and hugs. Everything swirls around him and he tries his best to remember each and every one of them despite the roaring speed they pass him by, with only Zhangjing by his side to keep him anchored to reality.

 

Yanjun doesn’t even realize that they are on the way home until they alight at the dorm, Zhangjing nudging him with soft giggles to announce their arrival. He lets the shorter boy lead him back to their room after a round of hazy goodnight wishes to and from the others, thinking that he could pass out at any moment if it weren’t for the adrenaline that still ran through him. On top of that, the Virgo in him would never allow him to just fall asleep without a shower.

 

He allows Zhangjing to shower first, as per their usual habit, considering how long Yanjun spent in the bathroom. However, much to the older boy’s surprise, Yanjun takes one of the quickest showers in his life. 

 

“Wow,” Zhangjing turns off the hair dryer as Yanjun steps out of the bathroom just to exclaim dramatically. “I’ve experienced two miracles in such a short amount of time. I’m not even done drying my hair but you’re already done showering!”

 

Yanjun grins at the other’s exaggeration as he walks over, reaching to take the hair dryer from Zhangjing. Turning it on, he finishes Zhangjing’s earlier task before asking: “What’s the other miracle?”

 

He sees Zhangjing’s reflection in the mirror, the other’s bright eyes seeming to glimmer with tears when he replied. “Debuting with you, of course.”

 

It isn’t that Yanjun doesn’t know,  _ of course he does _ . The fact had seeped into him since Zhangjing was announced as the ninth member, and had continued to course through his every vein as the night passed. However, to hear Zhangjing say it in the silence of their room now, Yanjun feels it sinking into his bones, into his very soul and he nods, finally coming to realize that  _ yes, he’s debuting with Zhangjing _ .

 

Upon seeing Yanjun’s actions halt: the younger boy’s arm still lifted in the air to hold the air dryer, his lips slightly parted and lifting into a slight smile, Zhangjing turns to take the hair dryer from the other. Watching Zhangjing place it upon the table, Yanjun is struck with a sudden impulse. He allows himself to drown in the conflict of whether or not he should let that impulse take over, and ultimately does.

 

Reaching to place his hands on the table, around Zhangjing, he effectively traps the shorter boy between himself and the table. The eyes he has come to love look up at him: partly filled with surprise, but mostly with joy and yearning.

 

“Congratulations on your debut, You Zhangjing.”

 

“Congratulations to you too, Lin Yanjun.”

 

There is no reply after, despite the many words bottled inside Yanjun that he found hard to express. Perhaps it was good enough for tonight.

 

For now.

 

He shifts to move away, but Zhangjing’s fingers reach to rest on his shoulders. As if it had all been timed by a greater power, the pitter patter of raindrops is soon heard. The rhythmic sound echoes through the room, overlapping with the steady thumps of Yanjun’s heart, placing words upon his tongue and spurring them forth.

 

“Did you manage to meet your family?” Yanjun starts.

 

Zhangjing’s reply is immediate. “Yes, I missed them so much. Did you… did you hear from yours?”

 

Yanjun answers without missing a beat. “They called briefly. My dad didn’t speak to me... he did text to congratulate me, though. It was short and simple… but it means a lot to me.”

 

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Zhangjing’s fingers squeeze Yanjun’s gently. “I’m so glad for  _ you _ .”

 

“Thanks,” the younger boy responds quickly, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

“You definitely could’ve done it without me,” Zhangjing chuckles. “ **_You_ ** debuted, Lin Yanjun. Because of your skills and who you are and nothing else.”

 

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Yanjun affirms and laughs. The older boy rolls his eyes, turning away to sigh dramatically, pretending as if he should have known better than to stroke Yanjun’s ego.

 

“But you said it’s because of who I am, and you played a part in making me who I am today,” the younger boy whispers.

 

Zhangjing stills at those words and Yanjun can feel the other’s fingers trembling slightly above his own. When there is no response from the older boy after a while, Yanjun continues: “Now that we’re here, that we’ve finally debuted, can I ask for your reply?”

 

There is no need to explain what reply he is referring to, and Zhangjing seems more than prepared to answer him, turning back to Yanjun with a look of surety in his eyes. It is dangerous to get his hopes up, Yanjun knows, but he can’t help but do just that. 

 

In the past week, Zhangjing had not pushed him away and had in fact allowed him to be as close as he wanted to be. Yanjun knows that it could just be the older boy’s kindness, that Zhangjing could just be going along with his flow before the finals so as not to cause him extra stress, or maybe the older boy had been too preoccupied with practice to bother doing otherwise. Still, it had filled Yanjun with hope.

 

Not so much that he is feeling confident, but not so little as to not be disappointed either.

 

Under the other’s intense stare, Yanjun prepares for the worst. Or so, he tries his best to. Zhangjing does not speak after a long while, and Yanjun calls his name uncertainly, trying not to let himself be entirely filled with dread.

 

As if brought back to reality from a faraway place, Zhangjing’s fingers squeeze the younger boy’s before he speaks. “Yanjun,” he takes a deep breath before continuing hesitantly, “I like you, Yanjun. But I’m sorry.”

 

Before Zhangjing’s next words are spoken, Yanjun already feels hot tears pooling in his eyes.

 

“I… prefer us as friends. Best friends. I’m scared, I don’t want to date you and let there be a possibility of breaking up. Breaking up and hurting you. Losing you.”

 

Through the haze of his tears, Yanjun remembers rejecting certain confessions when he was much younger. If he knew how absolutely painful it would be, how much it hurt to have your heart feel like it is being slowly torn into two but actually not — because it is still beating weakly to remind him that he is alive to carry these horrible emotions, he might not have rejected them then.

 

‘ _ Don’t be silly _ ,’ a voice in his head reminds him. ‘ _ You can’t expect Zhangjing to agree if he doesn’t want to. That’s selfish _ .’

 

Yanjun screams back internally at the voice, telling it that he wants to be selfish, that it hurts too much and he doesn’t know how to function anymore if he were to put aside his affections for Zhangjing. If he had to pretend those feelings never existed.

 

‘ _ Maybe you don’t have to _ ,’ another voice suggests. ‘ _ Perhaps you could try changing his mind. He’s worth waiting for, no? _ ’

 

The younger boy nods, because yes. He thinks he can wait a whole lifetime for Zhangjing to change his mind.

 

Maybe even a few lifetimes, if it needed that much time.

 

“Lin Yanjun?” Zhangjing calls worriedly when he sees the other nodding suddenly.

 

“I’ll wait for you to change your mind, You Zhangjing,” Yanjun states, his voice hoarse. 

 

The older boy inhales sharply at his words and shakes his head, but Yanjun reaches to hold it in place, not able to take being rejected any further. Seeing the guilt on Zhangjing’s face hurts even more, so the younger boy scrambles for more words.

 

Words to convince.

 

Words to give himself hope.

 

“You will change your mind about this someday and decide to be with me,” he feels his fingers shaking involuntarily against Zhangjing’s cheeks, “...right?”

 

“Oh Yanjun,” Zhangjing reaches to wipe the tears on the other’s cheeks with his thumbs before moving to wipe those gathering in his own eyes. 

 

“I was just kidding.”

 

Yanjun feels the air thin out at Zhangjing’s words.

 

“I’m sorry, seemed like a better joke in my head,” the older boy admits sheepishly. “I just couldn’t let this chance go, after putting up with the roller coaster of feelings you’ve dragged me into the past few weeks, and for all the teasing and stolen kisses!”

 

It takes a while for the words to sink in. 

 

“Yanjun?” Zhangjing bites his lower lip and peers up worriedly at the younger boy. “I’d really like to try things out with you, so…”

 

By the time Yanjun realizes he has not heard wrong, he lets out a frustrated groan and reaches to hold Zhangjing’s face in his hands. Leaning downwards, he pulls the other’s face closer, resulting in their kiss that is initiated by a painful smash of lips. 

 

The older boy whimpers but Yanjun pays him no heed, angry at the bad joke — but more overwhelmed by the joy that it  **_is_ ** one.

 

That Zhangjing  **_isn’t_ ** rejecting him.

 

That they can be —  that they  **are** — together.

 

Tightening his hug, Yanjun deepens the kiss, feeling every restricted fragment of yearning he held for Zhangjing being liberated. He no longer needed to pretend: to be Zhangjing’s boyfriend or a platonic friend — he could just love him, bravely and freely.

 

At the thought, Yanjun smiles and begins taking aggressive nips at Zhangjing’s lips while the older boy’s fingers slowly find their way to the back of his neck. Taking it as a sign of encouragement, Yanjun turns to move them both nearer to the bed, leading Zhangjing over and trying his best to lay the older boy down on it without pushing him. Despite his efforts, they end up toppling ungracefully onto the bed anyway, the kiss broken and their pants filling the air. 

 

Leaning over Zhangjing, Yanjun realizes then that Zhangjing is crying, his tears rolling down the side of his face uncontrollably. Panicking, Yanjun’s first thought is to apologize.

 

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you? Or, was that too abrupt? I should’ve asked for permission fir-”

 

Fingers rest upon his lips and Zhangjing giggles and sniffs his nose. “Why are you panicking? You didn’t hurt me, and I think it’s rather unromantic if you were to always ask before kissing me.”

 

“Then why are you crying?”

 

Wiping his tears hurriedly, Zhangjing huffs before answering: “People don’t only cry when they’re sad!”

 

“Oh,” Yanjun grins, “are you that happy?”

 

Zhangjing’s tearful glare and weak slap leave the younger boy undecided on whether to laugh or cry, so he does the only thing he is certain he wants to do: he leans down to hug Zhangjing again.

 

At his action, the person beneath him giggles and puts up a mock struggle, pushing him away with no force at all, earning himself a lopsided smile from Yanjun. Zhangjing stops at the sight of Yanjun’s dimples and reaches to touch one, saying: “Cute dimples.”

 

Zhangjing is never one to hold back from complimenting someone, and Yanjun has never been one to receive any less flattery — but he appreciates each and every one all the same. “Not as cute as you are,” he replies, satisfied at the immediate flush that spreads across Zhangjing’s cheeks.

 

When the older boy turns his head away out of embarrassment, Yanjun leans down to nudge the other’s cheek with the tip of his nose. “So, are you going to give me a proper reply this time?”

 

“How would you define a proper reply?” The is a tinge of uncertainty in the older boy’s voice that makes Yanjun feel impatient.

 

“Something along the lines of,” Yanjun begins replying before the answers form in his head, frowning as he searches his mind for the right words. “Like: ‘let’s date’ or ‘let’s be together from now on’, or if you want to make up for your horrible joke, something like ‘I love you so much I can’t bear to part with you, ever’ would work too.” The younger boy finishes with a smirk, the fierce expression he had a while ago melted into one of amused expectation.

 

“What about,” Zhangjing finally turns to look at him again, eyes ever-bright and filled with the same expectation in Yanjun’s own. “Why don’t we never break up?”

 

The familiar words with a much wanted twist throw Yanjun into a bout of nostalgia: complete with bitterness, jealousy, warmth and the overwhelming feeling of loving someone without restraints — and being equally loved in return.

 

“You Zhangjing,” Yanjun’s voice is void of any blame despite his next words, “I never thought you’d be someone romantic, but that was very, highly, thoroughly unromantic.”

 

A pout forms on Zhangjing’s lips and his cheeks puff for the briefest moment before retorting. “You don’t like it? I take it back then!” He wriggles in attempt to move away, huffing as he continues: “Let me go, our conversation ends here!”

 

“Ah, my wife is so quick to anger,” Yanjun shakes his head.

 

The remark only serves to rile Zhangjing up further.

 

“Wife? I’m a boy, Lin Yanjun!”

 

“You don’t like that? Guess it can’t be helped then.” Leaning back, Yanjun moves to sit on the bed, looking away from the other. “We’re already disagreeing so much, why don’t we break u-”

 

Warm hands reach for his cheeks before he feels soft lips and a sharp bite on his lips.

 

“Lin Yanjun,” the smaller boy warns, glaring at him with traces of tears in his eyes, “don’t you ever say that again.”

 

Letting the words sink into him, Yanjun smiles and nods. “As you wish,” he promises, sealing it with a gentle kiss.

 

“And,” Zhangjing whispers after, “this is overdue, but I just wanted to tell you that…”

 

“That?”

 

“I love you.”

 

_ ‘I love you too’ _ , the younger boy wants to reply, but his throat tightens and tears gather hotly in his eyes, rendering him speechless. 

 

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long to hear this, but I had been unsure and I didn’t want thi-” Zhangjing takes a deep breath before continuing, “I didn’t want  **_us_ ** to go wrong so fast, so soon.”

 

Blinking his tears away, Yanjun shakes his head. “I’m just glad we’re here now. That we’ve debuted , that we’re together.”

 

_ In more ways than one. _

 

“Is it what you wished for?” Zhangjing’s fingers find Yanjun’s on the bed, curling over them slowly. “On that night when you lied to me about the meteors and sealing wishes with kisses?” 

 

Yanjun smiles guiltily and nods. “How’d you guess?”

 

Zhangjing’s smile matches his. “Figured we’d make similar wishes.”

 

“What about your second one?” 

 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you. If we tell someone about a wish before it comes true, won’t it be jinxed?”

 

“...you know the meteors were fake, but you still think the wishes will get jinxed?”

 

“Yes, I do! So I won’t tell!”

 

“Fine, fine,” Yanjun pulls the other into a hug, pressing kisses onto Zhangjing’s forehead to soothe the other’s annoyance. “Then we’ll both keep our wishes a secret, and hope they come true.”

 

Peering up at Yanjun, Zhangjing nods. “I’ll do my best to make mine come true,” the smaller boy says before pressing a quick kiss on the other’s chin.

 

Yanjun’s dimples appear in response as he hugs Zhangjing tighter.

 

“Me too.”

 

* * *

 

_ I wish we’ll be together. _

 

_ Now, and forevermore. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a whole year, To Quit Smoking is finally finished!
> 
> Thank you, Belle, for beta reading even though you don’t ship ZhangJun as enthusiastically. 
> 
> Many thanks to all of you who picked up this fic, for reading all those chapters and being patient with my updates! Extra love to those of you who have commented, left a kudos, dropped me a message/tweet—they’ve encouraged me so much!
> 
> There are many things I drafted but never made it into this fic. Perhaps I’ll write a side story sometime far into the future? 
> 
> As mentioned before, I’ve taken up an freelance project recently and it will occupy a lot of my time, so I won’t be promising anymore fic updates until I am done, which will be next year. Of course, I still hope to write my fics, although it seems like I will barely have the chance to. 
> 
> Here’s a short goodbye, although I will still be on Twitter (do come talk to me @zhan9jun, my DMs are always open for ZhangJun/Zhangjing-related screaming!) — and I hope to occasionally post new chapters to my ongoing fics as well!
> 
> Again, thank **you** for reading, and for being a part of my love for ZhangJun ♥


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